Chapter 1:  Broken Bonds
by diply
Summary: Hawke is disappointed in the mages of Kirkwall, but fights for their freedom.  Fenris cannot bring himself to hate this apostate who leads him to freedom and shows him not all mages are alike.  Eventual Fenris F!Hawke romance. Rated M sex, angst, tragedy.
1. Chapter 1

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. This story takes place three years before Act 1. Bioware owns all characters, dialogue, etc. I love you, Bioware!_

**Broken Bonds**

Carver Hawke looked at his sister Selene from the corner of his eye and frowned. They'd been running for days since the darkspawn had descended on Lothering, but Selene showed no signs of fatigue. She never slowed, never rested. Oh, she allowed the rest of them to catch their breath, but she never joined them. She kept watch, her eyes constantly moving, searching for darkspawn. Her green eyes blazed, but if you looked deep they were empty. There was no weariness, no sadness for what they had lost, just grim determination. They would live through this. Selene would get them out. Carver recognized that look. He'd seen it once before.

Three years earlier, the Hawke family lost their father Malcolm to the darkspawn. That's what they'd been told. There had been rumors springing up about a Blight, but no one had reported seeing darks wan anywhere near Lothering.

Seventeen year old Selene had nearly gone mad in the Chantry, screaming at the Holy Mother and the Knight-Commander to let her see her father's body. She would not believe him dead until she saw for herself.

The whole thing seemed like a dream to Carver. He found himself staring down at a burned, mangled corpse that was barely recognizable as Malcolm Hawke. He was wearing the amulet Carver had made for him. Carver looked to Selene with wide, horrified eyes.

Selene's eyes glowed with cold fury. "The darkspawn didn't do this!" She snarled. "Darkspawn eat their victims, they don't burn the bodies to cover torture. This looks more like Templar work to me!"

"The bloody Knight-Commander, Selene, don't!" Carver pleaded, laying a hand on his sister's arm.

"You should listen to your brother." the Knight-Commander said, in a smooth voice. "What would your mother do if she lost a husband _and_ a child?"

With a cry, Selene flung herself at the Knight-Commander. Using magic didn't even occur to her, she was in such a rage. It took all of Carver's considerable strength to pull his sister off the Templar. He had to hand it to her though. She had a mean left hook.

"Don't you ever threaten my family!" she screamed as Carver dragged her from the Chantry. "I don't care if you're the bloody Knight-Commander, I'll fucking kill you!"

Two weeks later Selene disappeared. Leandra went to the Chantry every day to pray for her safe return. Carver went to question the Templars. Selene's outburst was common knowledge by now, and there were rumors. He was frustrated to find that they seemed honest when they said they were not involved. He was unable to speak with the Knight-Commander directly, however.

Carver possessed no magic himself, but he always knew when people were lying. He didn't always know the truth when he heard it, but a lie he could spot in an instant. The Templars lied about his father, but not about this.

Five days she'd been gone. Most of those days, Carver and his twin sister Bethany had forgone sleep altogether. Instead, they formed parties for search for her, left frantic messages with huge rewards on the Chanter's Board.

If he lived to be a thousand years old, Carver would never forget the day his sister finally came home. He strapped his sword to his back that morning and set out alone to continue the search. Most of the other villagers had given up hope of finding her alive. Truth to tell, Carver was beginning to lose hope too, though he would never confess that to his mother. Carver was certain that another loss would break Leandra. He would find Selene alive, or he would bring back her body so she might know peace.

As fortune would have it, he didn't have to go far that day. Carver was barely outside the city when he spotted a dark haired woman wearing nothing but a blood-soaked tunic limping in his direction. It was her. It had to be.

Heart in his throat, Carver ran to Selene as fast as his legs would carry him. She crumpled in a heap at his feet. He turned her over gently and felt his breath leave him in a rush. Her face was so battered it was hard to tell who she was. Carver's hand trembled as he gently brushed her hair away from her face. Brilliant green eyes flew open to glare, unseeing.

"Fucking…Kill you!" she gasped, the went limp.

"Oh, Maker…" Carver choked on the words, gathering Selene into his arms. He ran toward home like the arch demon was on his heels. "Why didn't you heal yourself?" he growled, not expecting an answer.

"…magebane…" she whispered. Carver did not think he could run any faster, but after hearing that one word, he suddenly felt as though he was flying.

"Bethany!" he bellowed for his sister as he kicked the door in. he strode to the back room to lay Selene down on a cot.

"Oh, Maker! My little girl!" Leandra wailed, hovering nervously around the bloody form of her oldest daughter. "Carver, what happened?"

"I don't know yet. Where's Bethany? Bethany!"

"I'm here!" She pushed her way into the room, her arms full of bandages, poultices, and salves. She stopped dead and stared in horror at Selene. Carver snapped his fingers in front of her face, and she gave herself a shake. "Take Mother out of here." she commanded. A blue glow appeared in her hands as she approached Selene.

With one last agonizing look at his sister, Carver led Leandra back to the kitchen and made her sit at the table while he rummaged through the cupboards for his father's whiskey. He poured a generous shot for his mother, then after a moment's hesitation, poured one for himself. He was surprised when she didn't reprimand him. He was only fifteen, after all. Leandra took a deep breath, wiped her eyes, and held out her glass for another shot.

"She'll be alright," she said in a shaky voice. Bethany's an excellent healer." She took another drink and burst into tears again. "I'll never be able to forget seeing her that way." Carver didn't know what to say. He'd never been very good at comforting people.

"Carver, I need your help!" Bethany called, rescuing him from his awkwardness and giving him an excuse to feel useful. He entered the room to find Bethany holding a naked Selene in a sitting position. Her bruises had faded and she looked vaguely human again, if still covered in blood. She wasn't completely healed yet, though. A tattoo of three sinuous lines had been carved into her skin, curving around the underside of her left breast, widening slightly as it crossed her ribcage, winding around her back and around her waist to form a fine point on her right hip. It appeared shallow, but it wouldn't heal, and it wouldn't stop bleeding. Selene's eyes were wide, staring at nothing.

"Magebane." Carver snarled.

Bethany nodded. "I can help her, but she's weak. I need you to hold her up so I can clean and dress this…wound." her mouth twisted in disgust at the last.

Selene was silent as Bethany worked on her. She never cried out, never made a sound when the salve was applied. Bethany knew it stung, and whispered soothing words as she gently moved her fingers over her sister's twitching muscles. When she was finished she wound bandages around Selene's torso and slipped a clean tunic over her head.

"Sleep now." Bethany whispered as Carver allowed their sister to rest her head once again. She had already drifted off. The twins looked up to see Leandra standing in the doorway, eyes still glistening with tears, but no longer hysterical.

"How bad is it?" She asked. "Details. Tell me the truth."

Bethany hesitated a moment. "Bad. Four cracked ribs, three broken. Her left eye socket was crushed, her collarbone fractured, one of her wrists was broken, the other was dislocated, a dislocated shoulder, internal bleeding, bruised kidneys…they…skinned her with a knife infused with mage bane. I couldn't heal that, it will scar. There is more, but…" She broke off with a glance at Carver. There was no need to continue.

"Who?" Carver snarled.

"She's not talking right now. She needs rest. I don't know anything more."

Selene pretended to sleep as she listened to her family discuss her injuries. It was too much to hope they wouldn't know the full extent of it. She would protect them from this as much as she was able. She tuned them out and her mind raced as she tried to think of something to tell them. She fell asleep before a plan had fully formed.

When she awoke it was dark, but she could make out Carver's shadow. He was sitting on the floor, using her cot as a pillow while he slept. She reached out to rest her hand on his hair. Maker, she loved her little brother. He was always there for her.

Carver woke with a start and grasped his sister's hand in both of his. "You're safe now." he whispered. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

"Light." she croaked. Carver lit a lamp, and small flames appeared on several candles around the room, revealing Bethany and Leandra. "Thank the Maker." Selene sighed in relief. "I feel like I've been in the dark for ages. How long have I been gone?"

"Five days." Leandra answered. "Today would have been the sixth. Maker, Selene, what happened to you? Who did this?"

Selene hesitated. She wasn't ready for this, but looking at the worried, exhausted faces of her family, she knew she had to tell them something.

"You don't have to tell us everything," Bethany began.

"But we must know who took you." Carver finished. "This atrocity cannot go unanswered!"

Selene's lower lip trembled. She had expected this. "Bandits, I think. There were five of them. I killed two, but one managed to knock me out. When I woke I was hanging by my wrists with a sack over my head." She took a deep shuddering breath and told her family the story, keeping back as much as she could. "They left me for dead." she told them, her lip curling in contempt. "It took a long time, but I finally managed to break free." She winced as she remembered her wrists breaking, her shoulder popping out of place as it bore the brunt of her fall. "I was in an old slaver den in the Wilds. As soon as I saw daylight, I ran. That's when Carver found me."

"Did you see who it was? Hear any names?" Carver asked.

Again, Selene hesitated. "The leader was bald with blue eyes and a thick goatee. They called him "boss" mostly. They kept the sack on my head, so I didn't get a good look at the other two. One had dark eyes and long dark hair. He should have a rather large wound on his neck." She bared her teeth, reliving a moment when she had bitten the man and spit his own flesh and blood back in his face. She suffered for it, but it was a small victory to show them that she could be dangerous without magic.

Leandra and Bethany fervently whispered their sympathies as tears streamed down their cheeks. Carver sat, quiet and thoughtful.

"I think Selene needs to rest now." He said, herding his mother and sister from the room. Instead of following them, however, he went back and sat at his sister's side. "Your story was good. Mostly true. Those are the best lies, the ones that are mostly true. The hardest to spot, the hardest to understand. They're gone now. Tell me the truth, Selene. Was the Knight-Commander behind this?"

"No."

Carver nodded, satisfied. That was true. "Then who was it? You can trust me, Selene. I promise to protect you."

Silent tears leaked from Selene's eyes, and she swallowed the desire to tell him everything. "It was bandits."

Carver stared at her for a long moment. "You know I know you're lying, right?"

"It was bandits." Carver searched her face and saw her determination to protect this lie. He turned his back and stormed from the room.

Selene felt a sob escape her. She knew she had broken something special between them, but she didn't have a choice. Ser Alrik. She would remember that name until the day she died. She lied to protect her family. The Templars would never take another Hawke.


	2. Chapter 2

Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Aveline's not my favorite character, but I want to include all the characters, so if this one's a little stale, I'm sorry. I'll do better. Bioware owns all…

_**Enter, Aveline**_

_They weren't going to make it through this. Wesley was badly injured and the darkspawn were closing in._

"_They will not have you. Not while I breathe." Aveline hefted her sword, she would die fighting. She worked her forms with the sword smoothly, slicing through darkspawn as though they were the straw men of the training yard. Still, they'd been running for days and she was tired. She couldn't keep this up much longer._

_Aveline screamed in pain as a darkspawn blade sliced across her back, then gasped in shock as she felt her muscles knit back together again. She looked up to see a young woman with a blue glow in her hands. At her side was a young man who had the look of a soldier about him. Another young woman with glowing green eyes and auburn hair appeared at Aveline's side, freezing the genlock who had cut her and shattering it to pieces with her staff. They had been saved. In minutes the skirmish was ended and the Healer mage approached Wesley._

"_Apostate! Keep your distance!" Wesley snarled, scrambling to his feet._

"_Well, the Maker has a sense of humor." the Healer said. "Darkspawn and now a Templar. I thought they all abandoned Lothering."_

"_The 'spawn are clear in their intent, but a mage is always unknown. The Order dictates."_

"_Wesley-" Aveline began._

"_The Order dictates…" He insisted._

_The Battle mage stepped in front of the Healer protectively. Aveline had never feared anyone in her life, but the green eyed mage standing toe-to-toe with her husband terrified her. If he tried to take these mages, neither of them would come away alive._

"_Dear, the saved us. The Maker understands." Aveline persuaded._

"_Of course." Wesley relented._

"_I am Aveline Vallen and this is my husband, Ser Wesley. We can hate each other when we're safe from the horde."_

"_My name is Selene, Selene Hawke. This is Bethany, Carver, and our mother Leandra. How bad is that wound?" She asked, turning her attention back to Wesley._

_Hawke. The name suited her. She certainly looked predatory. Still, she had saved them, and was healing Wesley. Aveline would have preferred Bethany healed him. She looked softer somehow, kinder._

_It was a quiet, almost sullen group that made their way south toward the Wilds. None of them were happy to be traveling together. Wesley and Hawke eyed each other like strange dogs in a yard, Carver's hand kept twitching toward his sword. Were it not for the greater threat of the darkspawn, they would have torn each other apart. There was strength in numbers though, so for now they would travel together._

_Aveline was impressed with the three person army that was the Hawke family. They stayed together, striding purposefully across the battlefield, Bethany healing when it was needed, Carver and Hawke killing anything in their path. Between the three of them, there wasn't enough for Aveline to do. That was until an ogre came lumbering up the hill._

"_Maker, give me strength." Bethany whispered, a large fireball appearing between her hands. She wasn't fast enough. None of them were. The ogre reached out and grabbed Bethany in one mighty fist. He shook her like a rag doll, slammed her into the ground, and tossed her aside as though she was nothing…And she was _nothing. All that remained of Bethany Hawke was a broken body.

Hawke's anguished battle cry seemed to shake the ground. A wave of icicles burst from the earth, impaling the ogre long enough for Carver to swing his massive sword down on its neck. The battle was over quickly, but the cost had been great.

Hawke's face was pale as she watched her mother try to revive Bethany. She knew it was a futile effort, no one could heal this. She tried to say something, but her voice was stuck. Aveline could see her struggle, and took pity on her.

"I'm sorry, Mistress. You're daughter is gone."

"No!" Leandra cried. "These things will not take Bethany!"

"Bethany risked her life to save us." Hawke said, finding her voice at last.

"I don't want a hero. I want my daughter! How could you let her run off like that? My little girl! My sweetheart!"

Aveline could only watch as Leandra lashed out at her daughter, watch as Hawke calmly accepted the blame. It was obvious she had already said the same things to herself. Even Wesley looked on her with pity in his eyes. He stepped forward to commend Bethany's soul to the Maker. Hawke up at him, her eyes shining with unshed tears, and whispered her thanks.

"If we stand here weeping, the darkspawn will take the rest of us, too." Carver said.

"I will never forget you, Bethany." Leandra wept, pressing a kiss to her daughter's brow.

"Our lives are more valuable to her than our prayers. Let's go." Hawked helped her mother to her feet.

"Flames! We're too late." Aveline cursed. The horde was upon them. They were surrounded, trapped. They might not survive, but Aveline vowed to take as many darkspawn with her as she could. Hawke and Carver must have had similar thoughts because they joined her charge. Hawke had taken over as healer, but she still dealt huge amounts of damage, freezing enemies so Aveline and Carver could shatter them.

"There's no end to them!" Carver shouted, cutting three genlocks off at the knee with one sweep of his sword.

"Keep going! We didn't make it this far to die here! We're getting out, Maker willing!" Hawke sounded as though she would be very displeased if the Maker did _not_ will it.

Aveline was amazed. Hawke expected to survive. She wasn't sure if it was hope, determination, or insanity that kept this woman going, but Hawke was proving to be a powerful ally. When she said they would survive, Aveline almost believed it. She immediately redoubled her efforts, inspired by this fearless mage. They would survive. They had to.

A great roar drowned out the sounds of battle and brought humans and darkspawn alike to a standstill. Aveline looked up to see a High Dragon stretching its wings on the cliff above them. The dragon flung itself from its perch, falling into a smooth glide as great geysers of fire burst from its mouth, laying waste to offending darkspawn. The ground shook as the dragon landed, eyeing the humans with interest.

"Wait…" Hawke cautioned, as Aveline prepared herself for another battle. "I don't think that's-" whatever Hawke had been saying was cut off by an explosion. Flame and smoke curled thick and high into the air, concealing the dragon. Out from this chaos stepped a very impressive, very old woman.

"Blessed Andraste, it can't be…" Wesley croaked, stumbling backward. Aveline rushed to his side. He looked bad. Even after Hawke healed him, his lips were bloodless and his eyes shone with an unnatural light. They needed to get to safety. Now.

"If you wish to flee the darkspawn, you're heading in the wrong direction." The Witch said with a small smile, then turned away.

"We won't be able to get through the darkspawn on our own." Hawke said, in a pleading tone.

"They are everywhere, or soon will be. Where to do plan to run to, hm?" she casually examined her fingernails.

"We're going to Kirkwall. We have family there." Carver said.

"Kirkwall? So far…simply to flee the darkspawn."

"Any better suggestions? I hear the Deep Roads are vacant now." Hawke snapped. She was in no mood for games, and she had a feeling that's exactly what she would get from this woman.

The witch threw her head back and laughed. "Oh, you I like!" She turned away from them again. "Is it fate or chance? I can never decide." She appeared to argue with herself for a few moments longer before she turned back to them. "It appears fortune smiles on us both today. I may be able to help you yet."

"Anything you could do for us would be appreciated." Hawke told her.

"Should we even trust her?" Carver asked. "We don't even know what she is."

"I know what she is. The Witch of the Wilds." Aveline's words were laced with hostility.

"Some call me that. Also Flemeth, Asha'bellanar, 'an old hag who talks to much.' Does it matter? I offer you this: I will get your group past the horde in exchange for a simple delivery to a place not far out of your way. Would you do this for a 'Witch of the Wilds?'"

"Should we trust her?" Hawke asked them.

"Wesley is injured. We'll never escape the darkspawn on our own." Aveline said. As much as she hated the idea, they needed Flemeth's help. Aveline would make any deal to save her husband.

"If you need to…" Wesley gasped, "…leave me behind."

"No!" Aveline nearly shouted. "I said I would drag you out if I had to, and I meant it."

"We don't have much choice." Hawke said, turning back to Flemeth.

"We never do." Flemeth answered, and negotiated the specifics of the arrangement. "Before I take you anywhere, however, there is another matter." She turned to Aveline and sympathy covered her face. "What has been done to your man is in his blood already."

"No! You lie!" Aveline cried, but the truth was in her eyes.

"She's right, Aveline. I can feel the corruption inside me."

"There must be something we can do." Hawke said. Aveline was surprised to hear genuine concern in her voice.

"The only cure I know is to become a Grey Warden." Flemeth said.

"And they all died at Ostagar." Hawke finished, hopelessly.

"Aveline, listen to me." Wesley pleaded. "You must do this."

"No! I won't, I can't!" How could he ask this of her? How could she kill her Wesley? Aveline had never thought to find love, never dared to hope for it. Most men wanted a…softer…woman than Aveline. Wesley had been different. He admired her spirit, her strength. He pursued her aggressively, and they were married six months later. A life without him would be nothing more than a cheap imitation.

"Please," he begged her again. "The corruption is a slow death, I can't…"

"He's your husband, Aveline. I can't decide his fate." Hawke said, gently.

Aveline nodded. It had to be her. Besides, if Hawke killed him, Aveline would run her through, no matter what Wesley wanted.

"Be strong, my love." Wesley gasped. He took her hand in both of his, guiding the dagger to his heart. A single tear slipped down Aveline's cheek. She prayed to the Maker to stop this, for something - anything to deliver her from this nightmare. Salvation was not coming, though. Not for Wesley and Aveline Vallen. A soft cry escaped her lips as Wesley's hands tightened on hers and plunged the dagger into his heart.

Hawke placed a gentle hand on Aveline's shoulder. "I'm so, so, sorry, Aveline." Aveline was surprised at the sincerity in her voice.

"Without an end there can be no beginning." Flemeth told her. Aveline wanted nothing more than to cut the witch's head off.

Aveline learned a lot about the Hawkes on the boat ride to Kirkwall. Selene Hawke was far more compassionate than she had expected. Her demeanor did not match her fierce looks. She spoke with Aveline about Wesley, and surprised her yet again by agreeing that he was a good man, despite the fact that they were natural enemies.

It wasn't just Aveline who sought Hawke's comfort. She was approached by many of the refugees, all wanting to talk about what they had lost. Hawke listened to each of them patiently, asked them questions, murmured her sympathies. She was genuinely interested in what everyone had to say. Children wiggled their way onto her lap, leaning against her, wanting to be closer to this woman who radiated a sense of reassuring calm. She even managed to produce a few smiles when she pulled out the strangest looking lute Aveline had ever seen. She called it a "guitar," and her fingers danced over the strings as she sang softly. Even the crew stopped what they were doing to listen.

More than anyone else, though, Hawke tried to comfort Carver. Aveline couldn't imagine what it must be like to lose a twin. She wondered if Carver would spend the rest of his life feeling as if half of him had been ripped away. Carver was not interested in being comforted. He avoided Hawke as much as he could, sitting alone in sullen silence.

Their arrival in Kirkwall was far from welcoming. Aveline was ready to move on to another town in the Free Marches, but Hawke set about securing their employment with an associate of her uncle Gamlen. A smuggler named Athenril. Aveline didn't care much for the thought of smuggling, but Hawke insisted that it was better than being a mercenary. She would rather rob people of their goods than their lives, she said.

A year in Kirkwall found Aveline as Captain of the Guard, with Hawke's help, but she was no closer to understanding the strange apostate who would become the best friend she'd ever had.


	3. Chapter 3

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Hawke meets Varric. Bioware owns all…_

**The Merchant Prince**

The coterie had been trying to squeeze competing smugglers out of Kirkwall for years, and was doing a good job of it. But now there were rumors. There was an elven smuggler called Athenril who's team was unstoppable. The coterie had broken their teeth on her crew more than once. They had never successfully raided her. That was an understatement. The coterie had sent more than five cells after Athenril's team, and none of them had come back alive.

It was rumored that Athenril's success was linked to a new recruit. Rumors had yielded little more than a name, however. Hawke was whispered about in dark corners all over Kirkwall. No one knew any more than that. No one even knew whether Hawke was a man or a woman. Most seemed convinced that even the name was a fake…A rumor created by Athenril to strike fear into the hearts of the coterie.

Varric Tethras was certain Athenril had leaked the name, but he was just as certain that Hawke was real. Athenril had never been so successful before. The question remained: How was he supposed to arrange a meeting with someone who's very existence was denied?

Varric turned his attention to the task at hand. Apparently, a brother and sister team was petitioning his brother Bartrand for a place in his expedition. The sister did most of the talking. A pretty little thing with auburn hair and unnatural green eyes. She held herself with poise and confidence, but she was young, no real experience under her belt. Bartrand laughed in her face when she said they'd fought and killed darkspawn. Varric silently agreed. _Twenty silver says she'd run crying for her mother if she even smelled a genlock._ He didn't know who he was gambling with, but the thought entertained him until Bartrand had run the pair off.

"Sodding humans." Bartrand grumbled. "If I had a silver for every refugee trying to get in the expedition, we wouldn't need to go to the bloody Deep Roads."

"They claimed to have killed darkspawn. You could do worse." Varric didn't believe either of those statements, but they needed a partner if the expedition was to get underway. "Who were they, anyway?"

Bartrand snorted. "If that little girl has killed anything more than a fly, I'll move back to Orzammar and eat nothing but rocks for the rest of my life. Hawke, I think she said her name was."

Varric's hand twitched toward Bianca, and for the third time that day he squashed the urge to shoot his brother with the beautiful crossbow. "Hawke." he said, in a flat voice.

"That woman was Hawke? The same Hawke I've been trying to find for weeks? Bartrand, you blighted nug-humper, you let her go? I've been talking to you about recruiting her for days!"

"You didn't have anything but a name." "Bartrand said, with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"So when the name walked up to you, you sent her away? Mother dropped you on your head. I saw her do it. Stupid sod." Varric didn't waste any time on his older brother. He had to be fast if he didn't want to lose her.

Varric had been born lucky. _Let's not forget handsome, charming, and witty,_ he added, mentally…But in this case, it's the luck that's important. He spotted Hawke and her brother when a rather artless pickpocket made off with her purse. Hawke gave chase, but Bianca was faster. Varric aimed and shot, pinning the thief to a wall. Hawke could see the whole thing. Good. He retrieved her purse and swaggered over to her twirling an arrow in his fingers.

"How do you do? My name is Varric Tethras. I apologize for Bartrand. He wouldn't know an opportunity if it hit him square in the jaw."

"But you would?" Hawke asked, arching one delicate eyebrow.

"I would! What my brother doesn't realize is that we need someone like you. He would never admit it, either - he's too proud. I, however, am quite practical."

"What makes you so certain we can help? You don't know anything about us." she said. Her eyes narrowed and she took a slightly defensive stance. Did she think this was a trap?

"On the contrary - you've made quite a name for yourself in the past year. The coterie has been squeezing out smugglers left and right. The only group to survive owes it all to you. The name "Hawke" is on many lips these days. Not bad for a Ferelden fresh off the boat!"

"You must have heard of my brother then, as well." She did not relax.

"Only a little, yes, but it is you they speak most of, messere."

"That figures." Carver said, bitterly. Varric sized him up - definitely a younger brother. Varric was quite familiar with that tone.

"There must be some way to convince your brother to hire us on."

"We don't need another hireling. We need a partner. Bartrand's been tearing his beard out trying to fund this thing on his own, but he can't do it. Invest in the expedition. Fifty sovereigns, and he can't refuse. Not with me there to vouch for you."

Hawke seemed a little reluctant to make this deal with Varric, but she had to admit, she didn't have anything better planned. Varric was thrilled to hear it. He wasn't lying when he said they needed someone like her. They needed a survivor. Still, she was very young. Varric decided to travel with her for a while - see what she's made of.

It didn't take Varric long to realize that Hawke was absolutely insane. She had one goal: Get her family out f Lowtown. Varric couldn't blame her for that; he'd seen the rat hole she lived in with her uncle. It was the drive, the idealism, the focus on her task that made him think she was crazy. He began to wonder if she ever slept. She seemed to spend every minute she had, day or night, helping others and raising money for the expedition. Every mission seemed to touch her personally. If she took up someone's cause, for good or ill, she saw it through to the end. He'd never met anyone who possessed even half of her determination.

When he spoke with her, he always came away with an impression of kindness, of virtue, and innocence. On the battlefield she was as cold as the ice hat flew from her staff. Tact was always her first approach, but she would not hesitate to kill anyone who threatened companions. She was a force unto herself. For once, the rumors weren't exaggerated. Varric had to admit, he'd underestimated her at first glance. He hadn't seen a ruthless killer in that face.

In fact, Varric was rather disturbed to notice that Hawke showed very little emotion of any kind. He had never seen her laugh or smile, had never seen her show anger, even on the battlefield. Were it not for Carver, he would have said she had no emotions at all. There was always tension between the siblings, but something in her eyes softened whenever she looked at her brother. When Carver looked at Hawke, there was open hostility and disappointment. This was more than sibling rivalry. There was a story there, and Varric hungered to know what it was.

It seemed to Varric that Carver was the only one who didn't adore the mage. Hawke drew stares everywhere she went. It wasn't that she was beautiful (although she certainly was that), she wore calm self confidence like a cloak. People instinctively looked to her for guidance, and she was always there with a helping hand.

When she wasn't looking, Varric would examine Hawke's expressionless face and wondered who she turned to for help. Even surrounded by her companions, she seemed lonely.


	4. Chapter 4

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Hawke meets Anders. Hawke gets high. Bioware owns all…_

**Tranquility**

Anders knew trouble when he saw it, and it just walked through the door of his clinic. A stranger group he had never seen - a dwarf, a guardswoman, and a former soldier, unless he missed his guess, but it was the woman who led them that held his attention. She was young to be in command - especially over a guard and a soldier, but it was clear who held the authority. Her brilliant green eyes darted around the room, searching for potential threats, scanning for exits before settling on Anders again with an intensity that made Justice rise to the surface, clawing for control.

_**She's dangerous. She takes a harsh view of things such as we. **_Justice warned him.

Anders ignored him. This woman was a mage. A powerful mage. She hadn't reached her potential yet, but Anders could feel the mana rolling off her in waves. There was something about her face that tickled his memory, but it was too far away to reach. Justice had gone very still.

The dwarf - Varric, he said his name was, did most of the talking. They wanted maps to the Deep Roads.

"Any information you have could save people's lives." The mage pleaded. Her voice had a soft, almost musical quality that Anders found incredibly appealing.

"I would die a happy man if I never had to think about the blighted Deep Roads again. You can't imagine what I've gone through to get here. I'm not interested-" Anders cut off abruptly as he noticed the staff the woman was carrying. There was only one staff like that, he was certain. "Although…" he continued, "A favor for a favor. Does that sound like a fair deal? You help me, I'll help you?"

"Let's be more specific." she said. "I don't do anything involving children or animals." She didn't have a lot of rules, but those two were concrete.

"I came to Kirkwall to aid a friend. A mage. A prisoner in the wretched Gallows. The Templars learned of my plans to free him. Help me bring him safely past them, and you shall have your maps."

As he suspected, she did not question him. A familiar fire blazed in those green eyes and she said, "I would help any mage in such circumstances, map or no."

Anders released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "I welcome your aid. I have already sent word to Karl to meet me in the Chantry tonight. Join us there, and we'll ensure that no matter who is with him, we will all walk away free." She grasped his hand in a firm handshake, then turned to leave. Anders' hand tightened on hers, not letting her go. "You're Hawke, aren't you?" he asked, softly.

"I am." Her eyes looked slightly amused as she pulled away from him and left the clinic.

The rescue was a disaster. Karl had been made Tranquil. Remembering the monotone of his friend's voice made Anders want to vomit up everything he'd ever eaten. Equally horrifying, he'd exposed his nature to Hawke. She had fought the Templars beside him, but he was uncomfortable with her silence on the walk back to his clinic. When they reached his door, Hawke sent the others home with quiet warnings that loose tongues made for unpleasant bedfellows. Who was this woman who threatened her friends so casually?

She followed him inside, pacing furiously, but allowing him time to make himself comfortable. As if he could. He sat nervously on the edge of his cot and, flinching when Hawke directed her glare his way, he said the one thing he hoped might stop her from killing him. "I knew your father."

Hawke opened her mouth to respond, then changed what she was going to say. "Do you mind if I smoke?" She didn't wait for him to answer. Instead, she pulled a pipe from her pouch, stuffed it with some herbs, and lit it with a small fire from her fingertips.

"What is that?" Anders asked, wrinkling his nose at the smell.

"If you really knew my father," Hawke said, coldly, "you should know that it's sativa flowers. He smoked it to think calmly and rationally in high pressure situations," Hawke took a long drag. "And so do I…Which is most of the time. So you've made one mistake already. Tell me what you think you know of my father. Then we'll talk about what I'm going to do with you."

"You look like him." he said, softly. "Your eyes and your hair. I wasn't sure at first, but that's Malcolm's staff you're carrying. There's only one staff like that. He told me he made it himself. Since you have it, I assume he's gone?"

Hawke sat next to him on the cot and hit her pipe again. "Templars took him four years ago. They claimed it was darkspawn, but everyone in Lothering knew the truth. None were willing to stand up to the Templars, though." Her voice was bitter.

"I'm sorry, Hawke. Malcolm was a good man. I've never met his equal." If Hawke had looked at him, she would have seen tears shining in his eyes. Malcolm Hawke had been a good friend to Anders. "You know, your father helped me escape from the Circle in Ferelden. He supplied the First Enchanter with herbs and smuggled me out in a wicker basket. I was just sixteen, then. I thought it was a grand adventure. That would have been ten years ago, now." Anders cut off when he notice Hawke staring at him.

"What would he say if he saw you now?" she asked him, in a quiet voice. She seemed to have gotten over her initial rage, now her voice was heavy with disappointment. Anders wondered if he might prefer her anger. He had to make her understand. He didn't think of himself as an abomination.

"When I was in Amaranthine, I met a spirit of Justice who was trapped outside the Fade. We became friends, and he recognized the injustice mages in Thedas face every day."

Hawke didn't say anything for a long minute. She'd had her own experience with spirits and demons, and knew you could starve a mouse on the difference. It was nearly impossible to convince other mages of this, though. Spirits offer help rather than power, but that didn't mean they weren't just as hungry as demons to gain a foothold in the mortal world. Still, this Anders seemed to be a good man with a just cause. Hawke couldn't argue with mage freedom…And her father had worked to free him. She needed more to go on.

"This spirit sounds like a useful friend to have." she said, cautiously.

"He was far better to me than I have been to him. To live outside the Fade he needed a host. I agreed to help him. We were going to work together to bring justice to every child who was ever ripped from his mother to be sent to the Circle. But…I guess I had too much anger in me. Once he was inside me, he…changed."

Again, Hawke didn't say anything for a long time. She took another hit from her pipe, then offered it to Anders, who declined with a wave of his hand. He could feel Hawke's eyes on him, weighing, measuring. He wondered if she'd reached a decision yet. It was terrifying to bare his soul to someone who admitted she might kill him for the truth she demanded. Anders felt a tear slip unchecked down his cheek. He was too shocked to say anything when he felt Hawke's feather-light touch brush the moisture away. She seemed as surprised by the action as he was.

"This is obviously difficult for you." She said, understanding lacing her voice.

"I thought I was helping my friend. He would have died, I guess…If that even means anything. And he wanted to help me. He knew what mages have suffered. But my anger, when I see Templars, things that have always outraged me but I could never do anything about…He comes out. And he is no longer my friend Justice. He is a force of vengeance. And he has no grasp of mercy."

Hawke suspected that Justice had always been Vengeance, but she did not voice this aloud. She knew she couldn't kill him now. He reminded her too much of her father. His conviction, his absolute belief that mages should be free. He was like her father, like her. A warrior for the cause, a potential brother-in-arms.

"Is there anything I can do?" she asked, knowing there wasn't.

"You are the first person I've ever told this. Thank you for not running away. My maps are yours - as am I if you wish me to join your expedition. I thought I was done with the Grey Wardens, but if you have need of me, I will be here."

Hawke took the maps with a nod. "Have no fear, Anders. I will not force anyone on this expedition who doesn't want to be there." She stood to leave.

"What about-" He couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"It appears you've earned a stay of execution."

"Why?" His voice was incredulous.

Hawke raised an eyebrow, and for a moment, Anders thought she wasn't going to answer. "A tool in the hand, Anders. A hammer can be used to build a house, but you could also use it to bash someone's skull in. In fact, the skull-bashing would be considerably easier. I will wait to see what you and this Justice make of each other. You seem to be a good man, Anders. My father didn't rescue just anyone. He saw something in you worth saving. Perhaps in time, I will see the same."

"I'm sorry, Hawke. I'm sorry for putting this on you. I figured a willing host, a friend…it had to be better than playing the demon and haunting some corpse."

"We can't always predict the outcome of our actions. We can only make them with a true heart." That was a lesson Hawke had learned well.

"Kind, wise, and beautiful. You must have made a deal with some demons yourself." _**Perhaps you shouldn't have just said that **_Justice warned him, irritably. "I'm sorry I shouldn't presume. It's just…We've hardly met and I feel like I know you. Am I making you uncomfortable?" Hawke had gone very still.

"Not uncomfortable, exactly." Hawke said, carefully. "But it would probably be better for you not to think of me that way."

"Strictly business, eh?" Anders was surprised how much the rejection hurt. Then he wondered why he had even tried. She'd been ready to kill him not fifteen minutes ago.

"I would like to learn more about you, Anders. In time we may become friends. Until then, allies will have to suffice." Hawke turned away from him and left the clinic.

Anders stretched out on his cot, staring at the ceiling. All things considered, it hadn't turned out too badly. It wasn't good by any means, but the thought of having an ally (if not a friend) was comforting to him.

_**You must kill her before she turns on us. **_Justice warned.

_Where is the justice in killing a woman who spared my life?_

_**Your life wouldn't have been in danger if you'd turned her away in the first place.**_

Anders frowned. Justice was not usually so hostile toward other mages, but he had gibbered in fear during the exchange with Hawke.

_**That one will always do what is right. And in this situation, in her mind, the right thing is to kill us. She stayed her hand, but it will not last.**_

_Are you certain? She is caught between two things that are right. Mage freedom, and killing abominations. I represent both to her. She's giving us a chance to prove ourselves. We would be foolish to waste it._

_**She will not choose you.**_

_You make a lot of assumptions. How do you know so much about her?_

Justice did not answer.


	5. Chapter 5

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Merrill joins the group. Sorry this one is short, but you already heard the lecture for Anders. I like Merrill, but I don't have a lot of use for her (sorry, Merrill fans. Nothing personal.). The next one will be posted very soon, I promise!_

**Babble On**

"So your sister is very…stern, isn't she?" Merrill asked Carver one night at the Hanged Man. She had been traveling with them for about a week and the Hawke had been very kind, but Merrill couldn't stop thinking about her new companion's disapproval.

"Ooh, she lectured you, didn't she?" Carver asked.

"For quite a while, actually. She was very kind about it, really. It was awful."

Anders smiled at her from across the table. He rather liked Merrill. She was sweet, even if she was the most naïve blood mage he had ever encountered. "Terrifying." he agreed.

"Oh? You got one too? I suppose I feel better then."

"I wasn't sure I'd walk away with my life." He said it lightly, but it was the truth. "She never raised her voice, though."

"That's how she does it." Carver said, taking a long drink of his ale. "When she's done, you feel so bad about yourself that you wish she had shouted."

"It's different for you, though." Merrill instructed him. "You're her brother, you know she won't hurt you. And you're very strong. Were you a soldier? You have a very big sword. I don't think I could even lift it. Did I say something dirty?" she asked, when Carver smiled. Merrill often felt out of place around other people, whether they were human or elven. She was never very good at making friends, and always felt as though everyone was laughing at a joke she didn't quite understand. Still, these people seemed to like her well enough. The Hawke didn't approve of what she did, and neither did Anders, but they accepted it. The Hawke had given her a lecture that would have done the Keeper proud, but when it was finished, she put an arm around Merrill and told her she would like to be friends someday. Allies for now, but friends eventually. Apparently, she'd told Anders the same thing. The Hawke's help was offered to anyone, but her friendship had to be earned.

"You didn't say anything dirty, Merrill." Carver said, in a tired voice. "You think being her brother is some kind of protection? I'm the only one of us she will hurt."

"You're having me on." Merrill said, sure this was another one of those jokes she didn't get.

"He isn't." Hawke said, approaching the table with a fresh round of drinks. "Don't let him play innocent, Merrill. He would put spiders in my bed, so I'd make patches of ice around the house for him to slip on. Just fun between a sister and her little brother."

"Yes. Fun. Like when you set my practice blade on fire." Carver grumbled.

"I'm sure you had it coming." Hawke said, primly.

"What did I do?"

"Well, I can't remember now, but I'm sure it was something." Hawke's eyes sparkled with amusement. Merrill began to notice that the Hawke rarely expressed any emotion, but if you watched her eyes carefully, you could see it there.

"The Hawke is very pretty when she smiles, isn't she? I think I'm rather fond of her." Merrill whispered to Anders.

"It's just Hawke, not _the _Hawke, Merrill, and she doesn't smile." he replied.

"Oh, she does. You just can't see it."

"Why do you call her _the _Hawke?" Carver asked, drawing her attention back to him.

"It's what the Keeper called her. She told me that the hawk was coming to take me away. That if I trusted the hawk she would keep me safe. Why do you call her Hawke, Carver? That is your name too, isn't it? Why is she Hawke and not you?"

"That was Athenril's idea." Hawke answered. "The name Carver will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies on it's own. Selene, not so much."

"Hm. I suppose that's true. It's a very pretty name, though. I would think one of your lectures would do to strike fear into the hearts of the wicked." Merrill mused. Carver choked on his ale, caught between laughing and coughing. Anders slapped him on the back, a wide grin on his face.

"An excellent point, Merrill." Hawke said, lightly. "I'll have to try it sometime."

"You're not afraid of anything, are you?" Merrill asked, admiringly.

"I'm afraid of the dark." Hawke said, simply. Merrill giggled, sure this was another joke. She didn't enjoy the city, but she felt like she belonged with these people. She had a new clan now. A new home.


	6. Chapter 6

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Isabella meets Hawke. Sorry for another short chapter. I've had lots of friends like Isabella in the past and as a result, I don't use her a lot. Especially when I've got Varric. __J_

**Swashbuckle**

Isabella was accustomed to being the most beautiful woman in the room. At the very least, she had never thought that she was _less_ than any woman. But the woman standing before her now made her feel clumsy and oddly shaped, with dirty hands and skinned knees. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail at the base of her neck, but some had come loose and fell in her face in a way that would make men want to tuck it behind her ear. She had pale, almost translucent skin and bright green eyes that made her look wild and exotic, and a figure that Isabella could only achieve by lacing herself into uncomfortable corsets.

She was dangerous, too. You could see it in her eyes as she scanned the common room of the Hanged Man. Isabella was willing to bet that if asked, the newcomer could describe every person in the room and what they were wearing down to the rings on their fingers and the buckles on their shoes. She could use someone like that.

"You're new around here, aren't you? Welcome, and keep your wits about you. You're nothing but tits and ass to the men in this place, and they won't hesitate to grab at both." Isabella said, with a smile.

"Thanks for he advice." Hawke said, in guarded tones.

"Anytime. I'm Isabella. Previously "Captain" Isabella, but sadly without my ship the title rings a bit hollow. You're from Denerim, aren't you? You have that look about you. I was in Denerim not long ago. You know, you might be just what I'm looking for to solve a little problem I have." She needed to be vague here, but also honest. This woman was watching her like a hawk. She's arranged a duel with a man named Hayder. She gave no reasons why, only that she feared a double-cross. Hawke seemed skeptical at first, but she agreed to help.

Hawke wasn't sure what to make of Isabella. She hadn't lied, not outright, but Hawke didn't entirely trust her. She'd give the pirate the benefit of the doubt, but caution was key. As Isabella suspected, her appointment was less a duel and more an ambush.

_It can never be as simple and straightforward as an ambush_. Hawke thought to herself as they raced to the Chantry to catch this Hayder. Then she wondered when she had begun thinking of an ambush as simple and straightforward.

Upon reaching the Chantry, it became even more obvious that there was more to this than Isabella was letting on. This was something she desperately didn't want Hawke to find out about. Hawke was pretty certain she'd rather not know. She'd been paid to do a job, and she wouldn't allow her reputation to be sullied because some tart had gotten in over her head. Besides, the man was a slaver. Only one thing to be done with slavers.

The discussion with Hayder escalated to violence quickly, and Hawke was suddenly very glad she'd brought Carver, Varric, and Aveline with her. Hayder had certainly been prepared. He had thieves hiding in every corner of the Chantry.

Hawke was impressed with the way Isabella danced around the battlefield, ducking under Carver's great sword to hamstring her would-be attackers. She didn't have time to watch, however, because she was currently the center of Hayder's attention. The man was skilled. She had to give him that.

"You're a pretty little thing." he said, swinging his sword in a wide arc that narrowly missed slicing open Hawke's belly. "You should never have gotten involved with Isabella. Now I'll have to kill you, too. I've never liked killing pretty young girls." Hawke suspected more than a few pretty young girls had met their end at his hands. Hayder swung again. This time his sword made contact, cutting deep into Hawke's left thigh. She hissed in pain but did not falter. Hayder's eyes widened in surprise.

"Don't worry about it so much. I won't lose any sleep over killing you, slaver." Hawke said casually. Ice exploded from her staff, freezing Hayder in his tracks. She brought the butt of her staff around, smashing it hard into the side of his skull and leaving a rather large hole. Hawke nodded in satisfaction. That was one problem solved. The sounds of battle quieted around her. Time to deal with Isabella. Hawke wanted answers. She knew she wouldn't get them, but by asking the right questions, she would know where Isabella was lying.

Isabella said she was in Kirkwall because a storm had shipwrecked her. That was a lie. There was a storm, but that's not why she was shipwrecked. When Hawke asked about this relic Hayder was after, Isabella began to dance around the issue, attempting to surround the story in mystery. Hawke suspected Isabella knew exactly what the relic was if not where to find it. Were it not for the fact that Isabella had freed two hundred would-be slaves, Hawke would have turned around and never looked back. But it seemed Isabella was still in danger from the mastermind of this whole ugly scenario. She said she needed someone to watch her back, and Hawke never left a job unfinished. Besides, Hawke considered herself a good judge of character, and she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something in Isabella worth saving.

Isabella was profoundly relieved when Hawke did not withdraw her protection. She questioned the wisdom of doing business with her though. Hawke seemed innocent in a lot of ways. Certainly, she knew her way around a fight. Isabella was impressed when the would Hawke had taken from Hayder didn't slow her down, healing herself only after she knew everyone else was safe. But Isabella got the impression that Hawke would always try to do the right thing. Not the kind of person Isabella usually associated with.

She admired Hawke, but she was sure that once Hawke got to know her better she would realize that Isabella was not a good friend, not a good person. The though hurt. She didn't know how it happened, but in the space of an evening, Isabella had found someone she looked up to, someone she wanted to be friends with. _Maybe more_, she thought, her eyes running over Hawke's perfect face and figure.


	7. Chapter 7

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. FENRIS!_

**Untitled**

"Your men are dead. And your trap has failed. I suggest running back to your master while you can." The elf walked past the hunter as if he was of no consequence and stared at the group in the Alienage square. More specifically, he stared at the woman leading them. Her eyes locked on him and all thought seemed to flee his mind. Her green eyes were bright in the darkness, and he wondered briefly if she was not entirely human. Her skin almost glowed by the pale light of the moon. _This_ was who Anso had hired? _She_ had killed Danarius's slave hunters?

"You're going nowhere, slave!" the hunter growled, getting over his shock at being so thoroughly dismissed. He grabbed the elf by the shoulder in an attempt to turn him around. It was his misfortune that the elf decided to accommodate him.

"I am not a slave." the elf snarled. The lyrium tattoos covering his body burned as they illuminated, and he thrust his hand through the man's chest and crushed his heart. He bared his teeth in a feral smile of satisfaction. The hunter's eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed into a useless dead heap.

The elf turned his attention back to the woman. She had taken a protective stance in front of her companions, but he could see no revulsion on her face for what he had done. Still, he was sure he'd imagined that flicker of approval. "I apologize." he said. "When I asked Anso to provide a distraction for the hunters, I had no idea they'd be so…numerous."

"It appears we're unscathed." she said, dismissively.

"Impressive." he said, and he meant it. She was silk over steel. "My name is Fenris. Those men were Imperial bounty hunters seeking to recover a magister's lost property. Namely myself. They were trying to lure me into the open. Crude as their methods were, I could not face them alone. Thankfully, Anso chose wisely."

"Hawke." The woman said, by way of introduction. "If they were really trying to recapture you, then I'm happy I helped." Her friends nodded their agreement. Fenris turned his attention to them for the first time. A dwarf with an unusual crossbow, a guardswoman, and a young warrior who was scowling at the back of Hawke's head, clearly displeased that she was protecting him and not the other way 'round. He wondered at their relationship, and was surprised at himself for wondering. There were more pressing matters at hand.

"I have met few in my travels who sought anything more than personal gain." he admitted.

"You didn't need to lie to get my help." Hawke told him.

"That remains to be seen." Fenris checked the pockets of the most recent slaver he had killed. "It's just as I thought. My former master accompanied them to the city. I know you have questions, but I must confront him before he flees. I will need your help." The last was more a question than a statement. Fenris had never liked asking others to risk his life for him.

"If it means hunting more slavers, I'll help you." Hawke said, without hesitation.

"I will find a way to repay you, I swear it." Fenris instructed Hawke where to meet him, and with a final murmur of thanks, disappeared into the darkness.

She was a mage! Anso hadn't mentioned that. Fenris's jaw had dropped in shock as a wave of icicles took out the Shades before they could fully materialize.

"Everyone alright?" she shouted. "Get ready! There are more coming." A great fireball burst from Hawke's hands, incinerating the second round of Shades.

Fenris was barely aware of the dwarf grumbling, "Leave some for the rest of us, Hawke." Hawke was already kicking in the door to the next room. She was certainly enthusiastic.

They searched the mansion top to bottom and found no sign of Danarius. Just the demons he left behind. Hawke seemed to take great pleasure in dispatching Danarius's pets; a fact that made Fenris wonder what manner of mage he had involved himself with. She was certainly nothing like the magisters of Tevinter. That didn't make her trustworthy, however.

Fenris left the mansion. He needed space to breathe, to sort this mess out in his mind. Why did she have to be a mage? She'd fought well for him, and he would need more help. Danarius would never give up. He knew that. He would hire someone else. That was it. It might take time but Fenris had no desire to get tangled up with another mage, no matter how exquisite. Where had that come from? He had never taken notice of such things before.

"It never ends." he said, when Hawke and her companions came out to meet him. "I escaped a land of dark magic only to have it haunt me at every turn. It is a plague burned into my flesh and my soul. And now I find myself in the company of yet another mage. I saw you casting spells inside. I should have realized sooner what you really were. Tell me then: What manner of mage are you? What is it that you seek?"

"You mean, am I a good witch or a bad witch? I don't know. What do you think?" Hawke said, simply. If she had been intimidated by his tirade, she gave no sign of it. It was an honest answer, one that did nothing to soothe Fenris's nerves.

"You are skilled. I know that much." he said.

"If you have a problem with my sister, you have a problem with me." the warrior barked.

A tightness in Fenris's chest eased. His sister, not- The thought cut off abruptly as he realized he'd just made his decision. "I imagine I appear ungrateful. If so, I apologize, for nothing could be further from the truth. I did not find Danarius, but I still owe you a debt. Should you find yourself in need of assistance I will gladly render it."

"You didn't seem all that thrilled with me a moment ago."

"You are not Danarius. Whether you are anything like him remains to be seen." A stay of execution for this mage. _The first hint of blood magic and I'll cut her down, _he thought.

"Your former master must want something more than a runaway slave." She was perceptive. Fenris liked it that she called Danarius his _former_ master. She saw him as a free man.

"He does not want me at all, only the markings on my skin. They are lyrium burned into my flesh to provide the power that Danarius required of his pet. And now he wishes his precious investment returned, even if he must rip it from my corpse."

"I will kill him before that happens." she said. There was no anger in her voice, not hint of a threat. It was simply a statement of fact. _It's one o'clock in the morning, and I will kill him before that happens._ A strange light flashed in Hawke's eyes, and Fenris felt the tightness in his chest ease a little more. "I'm planning an expedition into the Deep Roads I might need help with."

Fenris was sure she was going to say something else. He felt like something was hanging in the air between them. He wasn't sure he could stand to be near her much longer, but the thought of sending her away bothered him.

"Should you ever have need of me, I will be here. If Danarius wishes his mansion back, he is free to return and claim it. Beyond that, I am at your disposal." Hawke's companions murmured their farewells, but the mage herself stayed behind. Fenris stared at her for an awkward moment before ushering her inside. His mouth went dry when she turned to face him and started unbuckling her belt.

"What are you-" he croaked.

"You're hurt. I have herbs in my belt. Did you think I-" she blushed to the roots of her hair and took a couple of steps back.

"I thought you used magic to heal." Fenris said, equally embarrassed.

"I do, but I didn't think you'd want me to use magic on you. Your…distaste…for mages is obvious, but whether you like me or not, we said we'd help each other. Give me a minute and I'll make a salve for the burn on your shoulder, and an elixir with bone knit. It looks to me like you might have cracked some ribs. The burn will take longer to heal, but it's all natural. No magic…Unless you want me to?" A blue light appeared in her hands.

"I'm fine, really." Fenris assured her. He gestured to the door.

"You're not fine." She said, firmly. "I mean to have my way in this Fenris, so you can drink the elixir and put on the salve like a good boy, or I can use magic and heal you now. I will not fight for your freedom only to have you die of negligence."

"Not much of a choice." Fenris grumbled. His heart leaped at the sound of his name on her lips, but he balked at being treated like a child. They searched the house for something resembling a kitchen so Hawke could prepare her herbs. Fenris arched an eyebrow at her when she insisted on washing the clean utensils before using them.

"There were demons and blood mages here, and very likely abominations." There was venom in her voice as she said this. "I don't leave things to chance."

The corners of his mouth lifted in a smile, but he said nothing. He was uncomfortable with how comfortable he was around her. She seemed to have forgotten he was there. She hummed softly to herself as she mixed the ingredients, and Fenris couldn't take his eyes off her. He told himself it was because he wanted to watch what she added to the elixir, but that wasn't true. She could put anything she wanted in there, and he wouldn't know the difference. He wondered if her hair was as soft as it looked.

"How's the pain?" Hawke had to repeat the question.

"I'm sorry?" _Brilliant, Fenris._

"The pain - how bad is it? Don't be tough, I need to know." Hawke eyed him sternly.

"It's manageable."

"Man." Fenris didn't think he was meant to hear. It didn't sound like a compliment, but there was a smile in her voice. "You can drink the elixir right away. The salve will become more potent as it sets. Fifteen minutes, and you won't even scar. My own recipe."

"I don't suppose you have a recipe for an elixir that doesn't taste like bile?" Fenris asked, eyeing the potion dubiously.

"Sadly, no." Hawke sighed, dramatically. "I did make an elixir that can heal anything short of death - even re-grow limbs, but it tastes like moldy bile. I think most people would prefer death."

"Well, keep at it." Fenris's smile quickly turned into a grimace as he downed Hawke's potion. He spluttered and gasped. "Disgusting. Forgive me, but I think I could use a drink now." Hawke vigorously nodded her agreement.

When Fenris returned from the cellar, Hawke was no longer in the kitchen. For a moment he feared she had left, but a quick search found her upstairs, staring thoughtfully into the fireplace. She looked so small standing there, so vulnerable. No one would guess at the power roiling just below the surface. Power she didn't need. Hawke cold dominate a room dressed in rags and bound in chains. She hadn't looked at him, but Fenris felt drawn to her like a lodestone. The thought alarmed him, but he couldn't stop himself from crossing the room to stand at her side.

"Agreggio Pavali." he said. "There were six bottles in the cellar. Danarius used to have me pour it for his guests. My appearance intimidated them, he said, which he enjoyed." Fenris couldn't help but stand straighter when he felt Hawke's gaze flick over his body. He wondered what she thought of him, but her expression gave nothing away.

"So they were frightened of you?" She asked, with a raised eyebrow. She didn't seem disbelieving exactly. It was more as though the thought hasn't occurred to her to be frightened of him. Flattered or insulted? Fenris wasn't sure.

"None of his guests were like you." he said, with a small smile. That was certainly true. He had only known her for an evening, but already visions were dancing in his head of the two of them storming Tevinter and raining death down on the heads of the magisters. She was not what he expected. He took a long drink of the Agreggio and watched Hawke from the corner of his eye. Maybe drinking wasn't the best idea right now. He threw the bottle at the wall and it smashed in a very satisfying way. Fenris didn't know why, but he'd always loved the sound of breaking glass. "It's good I can still take pleasure in the small things." he said. Hawke nodded, and the look in her eyes said she understood.

"I need you to remove your armor." she said softly, a delicate blush staining her cheeks. "The salve is ready." Fenris hesitated and her voice hardened. "You can apply the salve yourself if you wish, although I don't think you'll be able to cover it all, and you'll still need help with bandaging." She suddenly seemed very far away.

_She thinks I hate her_, Fenris realized, then wondered why that surprised him. He'd as much as told her he hated mages, and she was a mage.

"I think I'd rather it was done properly." he said. He unbuckled his armor and let it fall away with a clatter. He felt a little nervous about letting a mage touch him, but he'd accepted her elixir. She could have killed him easily by now.

Fenris flinched when her gentle fingers began to smooth salve over the burn a Rage Demon had delivered to his left shoulder and a large portion of his back. The salve was _cold_. The pain faded almost immediately, though. He hadn't realized how much it hurt until it went away. He sighed in relief.

"You've had a difficult life." Hawke whispered, her thumb tracing the line of his tattoo. Fenris shivered in response and told himself it was the salve.

"I'd rather not speak more of it." he said, but he found himself telling her anyway. She listened attentively, she asked questions, but she didn't push for answers, allowing him to tell only what he wished. There was no judgment in her eyes, no pity, but she blazed with outrage on his behalf. She seemed sincere in her disgust for blood mages, and she claimed that killing slavers had become something of a hobby to her. This she said with a vicious smile; the first real expression to cross her face since he met her. He wondered again if she was not entirely human, but he found himself smiling back just as viciously. Anyone who walked into the room would have thought they meant to kill each other, but the opposite was true. They had reached an understanding.

It seemed Hawke also carried the scars of a past life with her. Her eyes looked haunted and hollow when he'd asked her about Lothering. She was polite and to the point - Lothering is gone + Family is in Kirkwall = No point in rebuilding. Fenris suspected there was more, but he didn't push her. He hadn't said everything either. He liked talking to her, though. He wondered if she would be his friend, then threw the idea away. This was just business. She would never care for-

"If you're looking to start a life, you could stay."

Fenris wasn't sure he'd heard her correctly, she'd spoken so softly. He turned to gauge he expression and saw that she was blushing again. "I could see myself staying - for the right reasons. I should thank you again for helping me against the hunters. Has I known Anso would find me a woman so capable, I might have asked him to look sooner."

"Perhaps I should be thanking Anso." she said. Her blush deepened and she looked away.

Fenris chuckled at her obvious discomfort. Flirting, it seemed, did not come easily to his little mage. She seemed surprised at herself for trying. Was she really so innocent? He decided not to point out that he could hear her quietly cursing herself while she finished dressing his wound.

"You can take it off tomorrow evening. Until then, don't poke at it or scratch it." She was the picture of confidence and serenity now, as if they hadn't just danced around the possibility of a future together. Fenris decided he didn't like this mask she wore.

"Perhaps I'll practice my flattery for your next visit? With any luck, I'll become better at it." He smiled, satisfied when her blush didn't seem to fade. She blushed all the way to the door. Fenris was fascinated by it.

She bid him a pleasant evening, but as soon as he closed the door, she opened it again, peeking just her head inside. "I almost forgot," she said, "Carver and I are going to kill the slavers who've taken over our grandparent's estate. Do you want to come?"

Fenris nodded slowly.

"Great!" Hawke said, brightly. "I'll see you in two days." The door closed with a rather loud bang and Fenris waited a moment to see if she would come back again. She did not.

Fenris could not remember a time when he had smiled so much, but he frowned when he realized that, except for applying the salve, she had never allowed him to come within arm's reach of her. He stood there for a moment, vaguely aware of his hands clenching into fists at his sides as he wondered which of them had the darker past. He went for another bottle of the Agreggio.

_There will be MUCH less story dialogue after this. I promise the story will open up more, but I feel the background I'm trying to build is subtle in ACT 1._

I love you, Bioware...


	8. Chapter 8

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns all…_

**Shield**

Hawke stopped Fenris before they entered the cellar of her family estate. "I think I should warn you," she said, softly, "If I think you need healing in battle, I'm not going to ask permission."

Fenris's mouth tightened slightly, but he nodded. Hawke was pleased. She'd expected more resistance from him. That he couldn't stand to be near her was clear, but he had accepted her help the other night, and he had been polite to her. She knew it was unfair to hope for more. She hated that he'd endured such pain at the hands of mages. She had always believed that most mages were good people, that the Chantry spread propaganda to fuel their oppression. Since coming to Kirkwall she had begun to question that; since coming to Kirkwall she hadn't met one decent mage. Even the boy Feynriel, while well intentioned, was especially attractive to demons. Hawke had sent him to Marethari to train, but she agonized over the decision. How could she help Fenris overcome his hatred for mages if she didn't have one decent example to point to?

Still, he was working with her. She had to admire the way he dominated the battlefield. That was why she had asked him along. She knew he would enjoy the job as much as she did. Hawke loved slavers. _No matter what I do to them, I never feel bad, _she thought to herself as she froze one and shattered his head, incinerated another.

Hawke felt her heart skip a beat when Fenris threw a feral smile her way. He had punched a hole through the chest of a slaver rogue who thought no one saw him in the corner, pointing an arrow at Hawke's heart. Her eyes surveyed the battle around her. Carver and Varric were both engaged. _He saved my life, _she thought. _With no one to see if he'd stayed his hand. _She chided herself for being surprised. He'd given her no reason not to trust him - the same argument she'd made to Carver when she had returned home from Fenris' mansion that night.

She'd walked into Gamlen's house that night to find Carver waiting up for her. "Have you lost your senses completely?" he asked, taking her arm in a painful grip. He pushed her into a chair so he could loom over her. Carver always did like to loom.

"He was hurt, Carver. He needed help." That didn't stop her from thinking about him without his armor, the way his lyrium tattoos curled around his lean muscles, accenting his broad shoulders and narrow hips. His body was warm and hard under her fingertips, and she could feel the pain that had been inflicted on him. She wanted to heal him inside and out. On her walk home that night she felt different; like something was breathing life back into her. It was small, a seedling trying to push through the earth, but it was there. It was real. She didn't tell Carver any of this.

"Is there any particular reason the rest of us couldn't be there? Maker, Selene, he told you he hated mages, what made you think you should be alone with him?"

"It was to soothe his pride. I didn't think he would accept my help with the rest of you watching. Men are funny about such things. This way no one had to know…Except you, obviously."

Carver ground his teeth. He hated it when she was like this. She explained herself calmly and reasonably, but also as if she was surprised that he didn't reach the same conclusion.

"First that abomination and now this wild elf. I just though that after what you've been through, you wouldn't be so eager to be alone with strange men." Selene's face paled, and Carver suddenly wished the ground would open up and swallow him. He was almost surprised it didn't. Selene was certainly capable of such things.

"I can't blame all men for what happened to me, Carver. I would drown in bitterness if I did, and there are good men out there who need help. Anders is an abomination, but he's also a person fighting for the same rights as I am. Whether or not I agree with is actions, can I begrudge him his cause? Fenris hates mages, but after being enslaved and tortured by them, can you blame him? Are you not resentful that magic has stolen your life from you?"

"Magic hasn't-"

"It has, Carver. I've seen how much you've sacrificed for Bethany and I, and it's not fair. Dad raised you to protect us instead of letting you find your own way. You're a good man, Carver. You could be a great man. I want to you worry less about me and think more about what's best for you."

Hawke pressed a kiss to Carver's forehead and went to bed, leaving him to stare, bewildered, at nothing. How did she do it? Even when she was wrong, she was right.

Fenris was frustrated. There were more slavers in Hawke's ancestral home than he expected, but that wasn't the problem. The problem was Carver. Hawke's younger brother was a nuisance to say the least, and he had made it very clear that he had no love for Fenris, had no intention of letting him anywhere near his sister. That wouldn't have bothered him, except for the fact that Carver was a sloppy fighter who left his sister unguarded all too often.

_Nononono…._Fenris chanted in his head as he as a rogue in the shadows aim his arrow at Hawke. Fenris's heart was in his throat. He wasn't going to make it in time. He rushed toward the archer as fast as his feet would carry him, his lyrium tattoos lighting up the darkness. Fenris's battle cry shook the walls as he shoved his fist through the man's chest and ripped out his heart. He looked up to see Hawke watching him, an unfathomable expression on her face. He bared his teeth in a vicious smile as he let the heart drop to the floor, then crushed it under the heel of his foot. _Fucking pig deserved no less._ He thought, grimly. He would have a word with Carver about his "technique." Hawke was formidable, but that didn't mean she didn't need someone to watch her back.

It seemed to Fenris that Hawke looked out for everyone, but no one looked out for her. If he hadn't been there, would some other companion have saved her, or would she have died? A useless line of questioning, he knew, but one that troubled him nonetheless. Nearly everything about Hawke troubled him. He barely knew her and already she had his thoughts tangled into knots. Fenris frowned, remembering his dream from last night.

_Fenris let his armor fall to the floor. Hawke moved to his back to tend his wound, and he could see himself in the mirror, could see the blue glow in Hawke's hands as she ran them gently over him, healing him._

"_I would give it all up if I could." she said in a small voice. Everything about her seemed small, delicate._

"_It is a part of you." he said, simply._

"_And you hate me for it."_

_She sounded so sad, so lonely. Fenris turned to find Hawke staring at the floor. He reached out and tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze. Whatever he was going to say fled his mind as he stared into her shimmering green eyes. She tried to break away, but he couldn't let her go. He slid his arms around her and sighed with pleasure over how perfectly her body fit against his. One had slid up her back to tangle in her hair and he lowered his head to brush his lips against hers. She gasped, but didn't try to pull away. Fenris tightened his arms around her with a growl and swept his tongue inside her mouth. Her tongue met his shyly and, Maker, she tasted good. Clean, like the wind riding a storm. She moaned softly into his mouth as tentative hands slid up his bare arms to twine around his neck, pressing her body more fully against him. Fenris shivered._

_His hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back so he could press hot kisses down the line of her throat. He nipped her gently when her tongue snaked out to lick the shell of his ear. She responded in kind, her white teeth biting down on the pointed tip of his ear. Fenris's hips snapped forward, grinding against hers._

"_Behave yourself." he grated against her ear. Hawke laughed throatily, and Fenris was suddenly very frustrated with the burgundy silk that separated him from her skin. He moved to her back so he could see their reflection in the mirror, and with trembling hands he removed the ribbon from her hair, allowing it to fall in thick, lustrous waves. One long-fingered hand slipped around Hawke's narrow waist, drawing her back more firmly against him; his other hand gently cupped her neck as he claimed her lips in another hungry kiss._

_Fenris eased a dagger from his belt and in one swift motion he cut the laces securing Hawke's corset. It fell to the floor with a whisper, and Fenris looked in the mirror. Hawke's gown was a much thinner burgundy silk than the corset. It clung to her in a way that didn't reveal anything but suggested everything. He wanted to burn this moment in to his memory. Hawke's head had fallen back against his shoulder as she teased his earlobe with her tongue. One of her hands reached up to tug impatiently at the hair at the back of his neck. The other gripped is hip, holding him tightly against her._

_Fenris watched in the mirror as he kissed her again, watched as she sighed his name against his lips when one hand cupped a full breast, rolling her nipple between his fingers. He watched has his other hand trailed down below her waist and slowly began to stroke her through her gown. Hawke moaned and rolled her hips against his hand._

"_Hawke?" Fenris wasn't sure what he was asking for, he only knew that if she denied him now he would explode._

"_Fenris, please - " she gasped._

_For a moment Fenris's vision was awash in red silk as he pulled Hawke's gown over her head. When his vision cleared, a very different scene lay before him. He felt his jaw drop in horror. Hawke was naked before him, broken and bloody, blindfolded and bound in chains. Her hair was matted and hung in her face. Rivulets of blood ran down her face and body to form puddles beneath her dangling feet. She couldn't possibly be alive. As though thoughts were words, Hawke slowly turned her face toward him._

"_Fenris? Is that you?" she croaked, through dry, cracked lips. The sound of her voice tore at his heart, but his body took him a step backward. "Fenris, please help me." Panic laced her voice now. "I know you hate me," she sobbed, "but you don't have to free me. Just kill me. Kill me before they come back."_

_She wanted him to kill her? After what they had just - he felt himself take another step back. She jerked against her bonds, breaking open partially healed wounds. Blood was pouring from her now where it only trickled before._

"_I can't." he whispered. Another step back. He started to run._

"_No, don't leave! They're going to come back, I need your help! Kill me, Fenris! PLEASE!"_

_Fenris awoke in a cold sweat, Hawke's screams still ringing in his ears. He vomited noisily into the basin. He couldn't stop shaking. He knew it was only a dream, but it seemed so real. Shame washed over him at the thought of leaving her there. She had needed him. Needed him more than she'd ever needed anything, and he'd run away. He couldn't stop himself. There was a voice in his head telling him that she could not have been saved from this. It did nothing to soothe him._

The memory was barely seconds in passing, and Fenris surveyed the dying battle around him. Carver was putting an end to injured slavers, and Varric was carefully inspecting Bianca for scratches. Only Hawke was still searching for potential threats. Something moved in his periphery. Another archer had Hawke in his sight. To Fenris, the air had turned to gel, everything seemed to happen so slowly.

With a casual flick of Hawke's wrist, a spike of ice burst through the floor, impaling the offending archer at the base of his spine, and exiting through his neck. She had thoroughly killed him, but that did not stop the archer from hitting his target. The arrow took Hawke through the middle, narrowly missing her spine as the head burst from her back in a spray of blood. The force of it knocked her back several feet to land hard on her side with a breathless gasp. Fenris ran to her side and felt the familiar burn of his tattoos activating when Carver stepped in front of him, effectively blocking his path.

"Stay back." Carver commanded. Fenris would have ignored such a ridiculous order, but he could see Hawke rising unsteadily to her feet.

"Carver, strap." she said, spitting out a mouthful of blood. "I'll need you to break off the arrow-head." Carver nodded and unwound a length of rawhide leather from his bicep. He handed it to Hawke, who placed it between her teeth.

"Ready?" He asked, softly. He waited for her nod, then snapped the tip from the shaft of the arrow. He allowed her a few deep breaths before stepping so close her back rested against his broad chest. He took the ends of the strap, securing it more tightly in his sister's mouth. To Fenris's eyes it had the look of routine, something they had done many times before.

"Ready?" This time it was Hawke who asked.

"When you are, sister."

Hawke nodded, and after a deep breath she didn't exhale, she wrapped her hands around the shaft of the arrow and brutally ripped it from her flesh.

"Ahhh! Fucking blood and fucking flames! Shit eating son of a bitch! Mother fuck me, that fucking hurt like a goddamn whore!"

Fenris felt his eyebrows climb almost to his hairline at Hawke's rather impressive string of curses. He started forward again when she sagged in her brother's arms, but stopped again when Varric shook his head at him. This was something that didn't include them. Fenris felt a rather obnoxious flash of jealousy over the realization. A blue glow surrounded the pair, and he could see the hole in Hawke's middle slowly close, as well as a gash above Carvers' right eye. She spit out another mouthful of blood.

"Are you guys alright?" she asked, turning to Fenris and Varric, acting as though she hadn't just been gored by an enemy arrow. They quickly assured her that they were well, but she put them through a quick series of tests to be sure. She made Fenris practice his forms with his sword and made Varric draw his crossbow several times before she was satisfied.

Fenris couldn't stop staring at her. She almost died. Did that mean nothing to her? She took no time to rest, no time to think of herself; she just returned to the mission as if the experience was no more significant than stubbing her toe. Even Carver had been very matter-of-fact through it all. He had been there when she needed him, but he did not seem very concerned. Fenris wasn't sure if he was appalled or impressed.

Varric must have notice the play of emotions across Fenris's face because he said, "It takes a lot more than that to shake Hawke. Come to think of it, nothing shakes Hawke. She's an oak."

"I thought it was supposed to be a rock." Carver interjected. "You can definitely shake an oak."

"I'm trying to break away from dwarven stereotypes."

"And if she'd been paralyzed by that arrow?" Fenris asked softly, irritated with their cavalier attitude.

"I would still have my magic, Fenris. I'm an excellent healer. Don't worry, I've had worse. This was nothing." Hawke replied.

"Is that supposed to be reassuring?" he asked, incredulously.

"Isn't it?" she asked. "Most of my friends find it very reassuring that it's difficult to kill me."

"I didn't mean -" _Does that mean we're friends?_

"I know. I'm not saying I like getting shot, Fenris, but I try to focus more on the survival part and less on the actually getting shot part. I learn my lesson and move on."

"And what was the lesson this time?"

"Tuck and roll." she answered. Varric and Carver laughed.

None of this felt right to Fenris. Someone like Hawke should have someone looking out for her. Three days ago he wouldn't have spit on a mage who was on fire. He could still feel his loathing for mages inside - a short fuse on a hot temper, but he could not make himself direct it at Hawke. He felt as though his path had been set the moment he set eyes on her. He knew he could choose to walk away from her, but he could only see darkness in that direction. Hawke had sparked something in him he'd never truly felt before. Hope. Fenris had never dared to hope for anything. Struggle and fight for a cause, yes - but hope? Never until now. When he thought of Hawke hope flared huge and overwhelming in his chest. He would live as a free man does.

Fenris realized something else. He could not allow her to enter the Deep Roads without him. He would protect his little mage. She held all of their lives in her hands, and he would hold hers. He smiled ironically. He was a bodyguard to a mage once again, true, but he had chosen it. There was only one problem: How to convince her she needed him?

_Vying for a mage's approval…_he thought to himself. _Freedom is a strange place._


	9. Chapter 9

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Kind of all over the place with this one. Hope you enjoy it. Bioware owns my soul…_

**Not So Merciful**

Fenris paced his mansion furiously. He hadn't seen Hawke in days, and he knew the reason why. She was with those other mages. The blood mage and the abomination. How could she allow them to exist? He had never seen her hesitate to exterminate either before, why did she stay her hand for these two? Couldn't she see how they diminished her?

For the fifth time that day, Fenris decided to have words with Hawke on that very subject. For the fifth time that day, Fenris looked at his tattooed hand on the doorknob but did not leave. Why should he care? What did it matter to him if Hawke's friends corrupted or killed her? She was a mage, corrupted from birth. Only, he knew that wasn't true. He'd fought beside her many times, the gentle touch of her healing magic felt clean, pure, like a drink of clear water from a mountain spring. Every mage who'd used magic on him before felt filthy, as if the water had been contaminated with a greasy slick of blood and oil. It felt thick like tar, oozing into his wounds, infecting him with their darkness.

He didn't want that for his little mage. Cursing himself for a fool, Fenris yanked the door open to find Hawke standing there, fist raised as if to knock. They stared at each other in shocked silence before he stepped aside and let her in. Hawke paced the length of his foyer a couple of times before she stopped abruptly and pinned him with a wide green gaze.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked. Fenris shook his head slowly. Something was wrong. He'd never seen her show nerves before. Hawke took a long drag from her pipe, sighing as she exhaled. "I've been standing out there for like, ten minutes trying to decide if I should come to you with this."

"I actually had something I would like to discuss with you, as well."

"Is it alright if I go first?" When she didn't continue, Fenris realized she was asking his permission. He smiled. Hawke always gave him a choice. He nodded his assent, curious to see what had her so agitated.

She took another hit from her pipe and went to sit on the steps leading upstairs. He followed her but did not sit, knowing that if he did she would find a reason to move. Since the night she'd healed him, Hawke never came within arm's reach of him. It was difficult not to take it personally, but he began to notice that she treated everyone that way. Only Carver could come close enough to touch her. She carried it off well. She always seemed to have a perfectly natural reason to maintain distance, but it was a pattern of behavior Fenris was all too familiar with.

"I'm going to ask you to do something you're not going to like." she said, tearing him away from his thoughts. "I received a request for help from someone claiming to know me, but left no name. The details are vague-"

"You suspect a trap."

"Exactly. _Perhaps_ someone needs my help, but if it's a trap I would confront my attackers. I need you and Carver…and Anders."

Fenris couldn't help but feel this was a fortuitous turn in the conversation. Exactly what he wanted to discuss. He had never met the abomination, Hawke had done her best to keep them separate. He met the blood mage by chance one evening at the Hanged Man. She was the worst type of mage, an ignorant one.

"I wouldn't ask this of you, but it's a blind mission. It would be wise to have another healer." She took another hit from her pipe and offered it to Fenris, who took it with a nod. He had never smoked sativa before, but he's heard about Hawke's habit and was curious. His emotions felt so tangled all the time, anger all too quick to boil to the surface. If this helped Hawke half as much as she claimed, he wanted to try it.

Fenris was proud of himself for not coughing. He handed the pipe back to Hawke, who took it with sparkling eyes. "No one's ever smoked with me before." She sounded pleased, but she turned serious again quickly. "I would feel better knowing you were there, Fenris, but if you want to say no, I'll understand completely."

"You'll find someone else if I don't want to work with the abomination?" Anger and jealousy flared in his heart when she nodded, but it was muted. A small voice told him that she wasn't choosing the abomination over him, that she was doing her best to see to the safety of her companions. He was still irritated, but kept a calm voice. "You would have that abomination protect you?"

"I need Anders in this."

Fenris didn't say anything for a long time. Hawke seemed content to wait, sharing her pipe with him. He'd never experienced such comfortable silence before. He was always glad when Danarius stopped talking, but that wasn't the same thing. He suspected this was an effect of the sativa because he could now consider the possibility of working with an abomination without flying into a rage. He felt the anger, felt it sharply, but it did not overwhelm him.

He could say no, she would not hold it against him. He knew he would not, though. Hawke had come to him one night to explain about her magical friends. She hadn't wanted him to be surprised by it. She had agreed that he didn't have to work with either of them if he didn't wish it, but she refused to let him kill them for her. He couldn't stop himself from pursuing the same line of questioning he had that night. It might work. He felt calm, collected, ready.

"How can you allow it Hawke? What makes them different from every other blood mage and abomination we come across?"

"I need Anders and Merrill needs me."

Fenris ground his teeth at the sound of the abomination's name. Who was he that he commanded such loyalty from her? "Why?" he asked. "They're dangerous."

"We are all dangerous." she sighed. "Anders has the maps of the Deep Roads and he's a second healer, which I need for situations exactly like the one I'm looking at now. Merrill needs me because she needs training and guidance, and someone to help her adjust to being away from the Dalish. They're good people who've made bad decisions. No one is innocent of that."

"But both of them concealed their true nature until after you agreed to help them. They tricked you."

"As did you." Hawke pointed out, not unkindly. "Only Aveline and Varric have been totally honest with me; but I cannot ignore that you make a good point. They did trick me into thinking of them as people. I hate _what_ they are, not _who_ they are. If I think they might harm anyone I will cut them down myself and they're both well aware of it, but I cannot execute them for crimes not committed, nor will I let you."

"That they made the choice is a crime in itself." Fenris pointed out.

"A tool in the hand, Fenris. I can only do what I think is right. I concede the argument to you. I cannot deny that what you say is true, but neither can I abandon them. I am sorry." She stood to leave.

"Hawke," Fenris started as she turned away from him. "You cannot believe that I would let you walk into danger with only that boy and an abomination to protect you. If you need me, I will be there."

Hawke sighed inwardly. She hadn't been sure he would agree. She felt like she was betraying him, asking him to betray himself. She'd promised him he wouldn't have to work with Merrill or Anders, and then she'd asked him to do just that.

She hadn't lied though, when she told him she'd feel better knowing he was there. Fenris was an accomplished warrior. Carver looked out for her the best he could, but when Fenris was there she knew she wasn't alone. She hadn't taken an injury in weeks because he was watching her back. She didn't know what to make of it. He was quite vocal in his opinion of mages - _As well to ally myself with a Templar - _she thought with a shudder. Yet Fenris protected her like she was precious, precious gold. Carver had taken to complaining about it, claiming he couldn't turn around on the battlefield without stepping on the elf.

Hawke was no closer to understanding her own feelings for this dark warrior. That he was handsome went without saying. She loved the way his lyrium tattoos curled possessively around his body, and hated herself for loving it. How could she find them so attractive when they had been forced upon him, had damaged him beyond repair? What kind of person would find such a thing beautiful? He face heated in shame as every time she looked at him thoughts of the night they met drifted through her mind. She had enjoyed being so close to him, enjoyed touching him. She'd felt comfortable with their casual banter.

She was more careful in her dealings with him after that night. She had not been alone with him again, and she never came close enough to touch. Fenris had learned the rules much faster than the others. He respected her personal space, and Hawke appreciated it. Many of her companions believed they could break her of her aversion to being touched. Isabella and Anders were the most persistent, but even Varric and Aveline would occasionally touch her arm or give her a pat on the back. Hawke knew they were just being friendly, so she rarely rebuked them. She would simply retreat to a safe distance.

Hawke didn't want to maintain safe distance with Fenris. The thought terrified her. She wasn't sure what she wanted from him, but she wanted it badly. She wanted to get right in his mage-hating face and - She didn't know, but something unfamiliar stirred low in her belly when she thought of it. She wanted to slap him until his teeth rattled. She wanted to hold him close and promise she would never let Danarius near him again. She sighed, knowing she'd never do either of these things. She would do what she always did when it came to personal relationships. Nothing.

Fenris and Anders eyes each other warily like strange dogs in a yard. They did not shake hands, only sneered when introduced. Their reputations had preceded them. So long as they did not kill each other, Hawke would be satisfied.

The mission was not the trap that Hawke suspected, but she found herself thinking her life might have been easier if it was. It seemed a group of apostates were hiding in a cave near the Wounded Coast. The Templar Thrask, learning of the aid Hawke lent to Feynriel, beseeched Hawke to bring this standoff to a peaceful conclusion. She groaned inwardly. Could she have a more mismatched group for this assignment? She looked at Carver, and his expression said he felt much the same way.

In fact, Carver's thoughts flowed like quicksilver. He couldn't decide which of the two men were a greater danger to his sister. They both protected her well, but in Carver's mind, that was his job. One he took seriously. He would not fail her again, and these two cretins she insisted on traveling with were in the way, but he had to make a decision.

Fenris and Anders bickered over the best way to deal with the apostates while trying to act like they weren't talking to each other. Hawke said nothing, but she listened to both of their arguments carefully. She had adopted a wait-and-see attitude that infuriated them. When they were attacked by walking dead, Hawke could feel their eyes on her. Anders pleading for her to understand, Fenris waiting too quietly for her to do the right thing. _The right thing,_ Hawke thought to herself. _It's getting harder to know what that is. _It was becoming more clear, however, as random apostates appeared among the hordes of undead to attack them.

As the battle heated, so did the tension between Fenris and Anders. Both of them were thinking the same thing: _How can she accept him?_ Anders burned inside to see what an excellent team Fenris made with Hawke. He told himself it was just because she was accustomed to fighting alongside warriors, but that wasn't it. Hawke and Carver fought well together, but when she teamed with that elf, they moved together perfectly, like they were dancing. When enemies closed in they stood back to back, sword and staff spinning, creating a circle of death. They were untouchable.

_You must find a way to separate them._ Justice said. _He is a negative influence. His presence is a threat to us all. _Anders silently agreed. He would start by convincing her to side with these mages.

His opportunity presented itself when they came across an effeminate young man called Alain. Unfortunately, Alain ran to them practically begging to return to the Circle. He explained to Hawke that the other apostates were blood mages and that their leader Decimus was dealing with demons. Hawke was kind to the boy, but she sent him on to meet Thrask. It could not be worse.

"Please tell me you aren't going to force these poor fools back to the Circle." Anders pleaded. "They're frightened, desperate."

"Typical excuse." Fenris said, his voice dripping with scorn.

"Why are you even here? You hate mages."

"I was invited. Hawke said she needed her best to watch her back. That means me." This he said with a dark smile. Fenris had noticed the open hunger in the abomination's eyes whenever he looked at Hawke, and it made his palms itch for his sword. He would die before he would allow such a union. Hawke said nothing; only continued on as if she hadn't heard their exchange.

Carver coughed to cover a laugh. He saw the rivalry between Fenris and Anders and recognized it for what it was. He almost pitied them. They weren't the first men to play the fool for his sister, and they wouldn't be the last. They would lose interest when they realized they didn't have a prayer. It was a shame, really. He never said so, but Carver wanted his sister to be happy; most women her age were thinking of starting a family by now. Selene wouldn't even come closer than three feet to anyone she wasn't related to. She kept a pack of essentials under her bed in case she needed to make a quick escape. That was no way for his sister to live, and it would be more of the same if Anders was allowed to get close to her, and the mage was trying. He touched her whenever the opportunity presented itself, flirted with her constantly in soft tones. His mannerisms reminded Carver of watching a trainer trying to tame a wild horse. A soft touch with soft words to gain her trust before bending her to his will.

Carver suddenly found himself very sincerely rooting for Fenris. It was strange to him. He'd never taken anyone's side before, but whether the elf hated mages or not, he was successfully pushing Carver out of his unofficial role as Selene's shield. He wasn't happy about it, but decided to give in when he saw the animosity between the two men. By giving Fenris the chance to protect Selene, Anders would hopefully get the message to back off. Also, by pairing them, Carver was certain Fenris would convince Hawke to do the right thing about these blood mages. He smiled to himself. Everyone thought he was so stupid, but they danced to his tune before he'd even played a note.

Everything was going according to plan. Carver hadn't dared to hope that Decimus would attack unprovoked, but he did. The biggest mistake he could make when faced with Selene. She was rather…unforgiving about such things. Not all of the apostates joined the battle. Carver prayed it was enough. He thought it might be when one of the women marched up to Hawke, a murderous glint in her eyes. Grace, Decimus had called her.

"I saw what you are! How can you kill your own kind just for daring to defy the Templars?"

"You are not my kind." Hawke said in a hard voice. "What you've done here is unnatural."

"They only want their freedom, the same freedom you've had you're entire life." Anders pleaded with Hawke. "The Templars will kill them all for the actions of one man."

Carver smiled to himself. Selene seemed to be wavering, but Fenris's timing was perfect. "Are we supposed to believe they had no part in his actions?" The elf asked as though he wasn't speaking to anyone in particular.

"You followed him knowing what that meant. You should all face punishment." Hawke's voice was hard, but her face was pale. She really didn't want to do this, but it was the right thing.

"If you turn us over to the Templars, don't expect your own talents to go unremarked." Grace said in a smug voice. Did she really think she could blackmail Hawke?

"Not helping…" Anders warned.

"Kill the Templars outside and we can all walk away free." Grace's voice had taken on a fanatic edge.

"I have no love for Templars, but Thrask is a good man. It is no more right for him to die than you. I'm sorry, Grace. I must take you back to the Circle."

"So be it. You will regret this, Hawke."

"I'm certain that's true." Hawke said, in a sad voice. "Wait ten minutes, then follow me. I'll make sure it's safe and meet you at the entrance. There's nowhere else for you to go."

With Decimus dead, it should have been safe. It wasn't. Waves of walking corpses rose up to meet them, and Hawke saw to it that they were shattered, not leaving enough to get up and walk again. It was a quiet group that waited for Grace and the others at the entrance of the cave. Hawke shot her a hard look before handing her over to Thrask. Once the Templars were out of sight with the apostates, Hawke turned and vomited into the bushes. She never thought she'd see the day she'd send another mage to the Circle.

"You should feel sick." Anders snapped. "I certainly do."

"What would you have me do, Anders?" Hawke demanded. Her eyes were green ice. "Would you have me believe her innocent? Who raised the corpses we fought on the way out? I will not loose another blood mage on Kirkwall. I will not reward their weakness!"

"You accept Merrill and I, but you condemn these mages? Is that right? Is that fair?" he shouted back, his skin cracking as Justice shone through. He was vaguely aware of Fenris drawing his sword, but it was Hawke who held his attention. How could she betray mages like this?

"What exactly are you trying to convince me of, Anders?" Hawke's voice was soft and dangerous, but Anders was too caught up in his anger to notice.

"I just never thought Malcolm Hawke's daughter would be a dog for the Templars." he said in a flat voice.

That was too far. Carver drew his sword as Fenris started forward. They needn't have bothered. Hawke's mind blast sent Anders flying back ten feet. When his vision cleared she was standing over him, one booted foot on his chest, her staff at his throat. As much as he hated her at that moment, he could not help but be struck at how beautiful she was in her anger. Her voice rang like bells on a winter morning.

"They should be thankful for their lives, as should you be. You may continue to travel with us if you wish, but invoke my father's name to chastise me again, and you'll wish you met their fate."

_I think we may have deserved that._ Justice said quietly, almost as if he was afraid Hawke might hear him. Anders smiled a little and clumsily regained his feet. She hadn't killed him or sent him away. Her warnings were harsh, though. Her mind blast has left behind a headache that would linger for days. A reminder of the cost of angering her.

Carver sheathed his sword. Fenris did not. He did not trust the abomination not to retaliate. "Hawke…" he began.

"Only in defense of your life. _Your_ life, not mine." She said, and kept walking. Fenris brightened at that and sheathed his sword. He was certain he could make the abomination attack him. Then he would kill him.


	10. Chapter 10

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for._

_Sooo, this one kind of ran away with me. It's pretty long because there was still a lot to say in Act 1 and I was running out of time. Sorta cheesy and girly. Sorry. Hope you enjoy it!_

**The Sendoff**

They had done it. They had raised enough money for the expedition and then some. Hawke was going over her list of supplies one more time before they left the next morning, when Isabella strolled in and leaned against the doorframe.

"We're giving you a proper sendoff at the Hanged Man tonight." She said. "You're coming, you're drinking, you're wearing something sexy."

"I don't have anything sexy." Hawke protested. That was the least of her problems with this plan.

"Leandra!" Isabella called, as she marched from the room.

Hawke's mother looked up with a smile. "How can I help you, dear?" She asked. Leandra liked Isabella very much. She said she was spunky. Hawke didn't think that was quite the right word.

"We're drinking at the Hanged Man and your delicious daughter has two men fighting over her. I want her to turn every head in the tavern. You should come, too. I promise it'll be marvelous good fun."

Leandra smiled broadly. "Selene will be fashionably late." Isabella hesitated a moment, clearly uncertain whether she could trust Leandra to do as she asked. "Come now, Isabella. I've turned more than a few heads in my day."

"I'll bet you did, you dirty bitch." Isabella said with a wink. "Have her ready in an hour."

"She'll be ready when she's ready, and not a moment sooner." Leandra called, as Isabella closed the door behind her.

"Mother, I don't think-" Hawke began.

"Hush, Selene. Mothers and daughters do this sort of thing and you're not going to take it away from me. Now tell me about these boys fighting over you. Are they handsome? What are their names? Do you like either of them? Can I meet them? I have the perfect look in mind for you, where did I put my kohl?"

Hawke had not seen her mother look so lively in months. She could only sit in stupefied silence as Leandra fussed and rained questions down upon her. This was the first she'd heard of any men fighting over her. Whom was Isabella talking about?

At the Hanged Man, Isabella was growing impatient. She glanced at Merrill who was practically bouncing in her chair in anticipation, and smiled. Varric winked at her. The three of them had worked to bring this evening together. They'd been watching the tension grow between Anders, Fenris, and Hawke and found the whole thing vastly amusing. Varric said that Hawke was an innocent and had no idea either man had any intentions toward her; but Isabella didn't think anyone could be that oblivious. No, this was a carefully executed flirtation. The less she spoke, the more they listened. Her quiet demeanor, her cool façade, and her ridiculous unspoken rules about personal space made all of the want to be closer to her. Hawke was an artist. She was mysterious and aloof and beautiful, and she had sparked something in Fenris and Anders; something that was dangerously close to igniting, and Isabella wanted to be there when it did.

But where was she? Everyone had arrived save Carver and Hawke, and a storm was rolling in. Isabella was concerned that Hawke's responsible nature would keep her home. But no. She had secured promises from Carver and Leandra that Hawke would make an appearance.

"By the Dread Wolf!" Merrill piped. Even in her irritation, she sounded perky. "I thought Carver and Selene would be here by now."

"Who is Selene?" All other talk cut off abruptly and everyone turned to stare at Fenris. Isabella thought her jaw might hit the floor. All this time, all those hot stares when she wasn't looking, and he never even knew her name? This was so good it had to be fattening.

"What, are you serious?" Varric asked, a slight giggle coloring his voice.

"Selene Hawke." Aveline explained, business-like as ever. "Carver Hawke's older sister. Did she really not tell you her name?"

Fenris shook his head and frowned. "…Selene…" He said her name slowly, as though he was tasting it.

As if naming her was a summons, Selene and Carver entered the Hanged Man, dripping from the rain. Isabella clicked her tongue in irritation. She was going to have a long talk with Leandra. A black duster covering her from neck to ankles with a guitar case strapped to her back was _not_ sexy. Well, maybe a little, but still not what she had in mind.

"A jigger or your finest whiskey for my friends, here." Isabella called to the barkeep as Hawke and Carver approached. Hawke unstrapped her guitar and propped it in the corner. She moved to take a nearby chair, but Carver stopped her.

"Coat, Selene." Was all he said.

"I'm not-" she protested.

"You're fine. Coat."

_Ah, so there is something under there, _Isabella thought with glee. A very different Selene was hiding under that duster. Carver slipped Hawke's coat from her bare shoulders with a smile. She was wearing the burgundy corset that usually accompanied her robes, but there was no robe underneath. The bust plunged low, showing a more than generous amount of cleavage, and was laced tightly to accent her narrow waist and the gentle flare of her hips. Her pants were soft black leather that hugged her like a second skin, showing off her perfect bum to anyone who wanted to see…And people were looking. Her boots added several inches to her height, with silver buckles up to the knee. Her hair was loose for a change, framing her face and dripping wet, and she wore a simple line of kohl around her eyes. Her masterful lack of jewelry drew your eyes to her other…assets. Leandra had outdone herself.

The sound of a chair scraping against the floor tore Isabella's attention away from Hawke. Anders was on his feet and staring at the other mage, lust darkening his features. She quickly glanced over to Fenris, gauging his reaction. He was glaring furiously at Hawke, but his eyes smoldered with a different emotion entirely.

"Selene, you look…amazing." Anders said, bringing her hand to his lips for a kiss. He never called her by her first name, and Isabella knew it was just to needle Fenris. A foolish move; Isabella didn't think Fenris could get any angrier. Hawke was bringing Varric, Carver, and Aveline with her into the Deep Roads - a mission Fenris desperately wanted to be part of, she never told him her first name, and now Anders was kissing her hand and she was blushing prettily. This was going to be a fun evening.

Aveline smirked when Hawke snatched her hand back and quickly moved to put the table between herself and the other mage. She did not approve of either man's infatuation with her friend. This was undoubtedly the reason the guardswoman had worked so hard to squeeze Fenris out of the expedition. A reason Isabella didn't entirely understand. She was grateful not to be going. It seemed it was more than just the men who wanted to be Hawke's champion - not that she needed one.

"Will you be playing for us tonight?" Aveline asked, gesturing to Hawke's guitar.

"If you're good." She replied, eyeing her whiskey dubiously.

"I didn't know you're a musician." Anders said.

"She plays for the orphans at the Chantry a few times a week." Varric told him, sounding bewildered.

"That's not really playing." Carver said, with a smile. "Before she got the guitar Father said she was more muse than mage. A shame he can't see her now. If you really want to know what she can to with that thing, you have to follow her to the Wounded Coast."

Even Aveline seemed surprised at that. Isabella was starting to wonder if any of them really knew Hawke. She wondered how close to the truth they would get if they all pooled their knowledge. Fenris was looking slightly less angry and more intrigued. Isabella guessed he would be following Hawke to the Wounded Coast very soon.

Hawke was beginning to look embarrassed by all the attention. She downed her whiskey, then Carver's, then went to the bar for a fresh round. Isabella was impressed; she hadn't pegged Hawke for a drinker. She was even more impressed when Hawke was stopped three times on the way back to the table by men asking for a dance. She refused politely, but she looked very uncomfortable and was growing withdrawn. Fenris was back to glaring. Not at Hawke this time, but at the men staring at her.

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Varric asked at the same time as Hawke, and then laughed. "I think I'm beginning to know you, my friend." He gestured to an empty chair between himself and Fenris.

"Do you smoke very often?" Merrill asked, watching Hawke with fascination.

"All the time." Carver answered for his sister.

"Perhaps if someone kept her drink full she wouldn't have time to think about it." Isabella said, setting a fresh jigger in front of her.

"Conspiring, Isabella?" Hawke said, with mock severity. She slammed the now empty glass on the table. "I would expect such tactics from Aveline, but never you."

"Jokes? From Hawke? A special occasion, indeed." Anders said, raising his glass. "I think we should get you drunk more often."

"Selene jokes all the time. It's just that she's not funny." Carver winced when Hawke bounced a saltcellar off his shoulder.

"You're just jealous that Isabella wants to look at my chest instead of yours tonight." Hawke said, waggling her eyebrows. She hiccupped and everyone at the table burst into shocked giggles. This was a side of her none of them had ever seen.

"Perhaps whiskey isn't your drink." A velvety voice murmured next to her ear. Hawke shivered as Fenris's breath tickled her neck. He offered her his wine. "This might be more to your liking. You don't want to overdo it, after all."

"She absolutely does want to overdo it." Varric protested. "We orchestrated this whole evening to see Hawke in the throes of drunken debauchery."

"She needs a clear head if she's to survive the Deep Roads." Aveline said, siding with Fenris.

"A hangover isn't going to last for weeks, Aveline. Besides, she's only had four shots. She'll be fine." Isabella said. The table exploded into argument over how much alcohol Hawke would imbibe that evening. They discussed her tolerance for alcohol versus her tolerance for sativa - which none of them really knew anything about anyway, and what would happen when she combined them.

Hawke glanced at Carver, hoping to gain some understanding of why everyone was so excited about her getting drunk. Carver just shrugged and a slow smile spread across his face. Damn him. He had something to do with this. Varric noticed the silent exchange, and slid another shot Hawke's way with a wink and a smile. Hawke stood, raising her glass as if to toast.

"Compromise is the key to civilization." She swayed slightly. She was starting to feel warm and giddy. "I will take this shot and a shot to be named later. For the rest of the evening, I will drink wine. As much or as little as I choose." She threw the shot back and flopped into her chair. Several men around the tavern cheered.

"I promise you'll like it." Fenris said, offering his wine to Hawke once more.

"I'll bet you say that to all the girls." Isabella drawled, leaning across the table to show off even more of her bosom than usual. Fenris glared at her ferociously when Hawke blushed to the roots of her hair and leaned away from him.

"Never to a mage, I'd wager." Varric said.

The corner of Hawke's mouth twitched and her eyes were shining with some emotion Fenris couldn't name. He wondered if that almost imperceptible gesture had been a smile. She was a hard one to read, his little mage. Her fingers brushed his when she accepted his wine, leaving a tingling feeling that didn't fade when she took her hand away. He copied the gesture when she offered him her pipe. He enjoyed smoking with her. It was soothing, and he would be lying if he said it didn't please him that no one else smoked with her. He liked that there was something only the two of them shared; and now they were sharing his wine as well. She still kept her distance, but she was becoming more comfortable with him, and that was enough for Fenris.

Anders frowned as he watched the exchange between Hawke and Fenris. Hawke had been very clear regarding Anders' interest in her, but he could not stand by and watch as this bitter elf sank his talons into her. There was only one way he knew how to stop it. Anders was not accustomed to losing games of seduction, and he wanted Hawke very badly. She'd haunted his dreams since he met her, her perfect body hovering over his, her doll's face looking down at him, flushed with her passion. He wondered if there were anything he wouldn't give to make that dream a reality.

More than lust though, he respected her. She held fast to her ideals, no matter how difficult. She met every challenge with poise and confidence. He found himself picking fights just to get a rise out of her. It didn't work very often, but he couldn't get the day she'd mind-blasted him out of his mind. He wondered idly if he'd fallen in love with her that day. That was real emotion she'd shown him, raw and bleeding. He wanted to see it again. Not her pain, but her emotion. Anything to crack that insufferable mask of cold reason, to make her seem human.

_**Is that it?**_Justice asked. _**Or do you want to believe she's as weak as you are?**_

_I am not weak._ Anders told his other half, firmly. Where was this coming from?

_**Friend or no, that girl would never have made the pact we did. Put it from your mind.**_

_Do you really think I'm weak?_

_**You think you are, since you met her. You doubt yourself and me. I can hear you asking yourself what she would have done in your shoes. I tell you now that I would have wasted away if she did not kill me on the spot. If she didn't need us, I doubt we would have survived the introduction.**_

_You never did say how you know her._

_**I encountered her once in the Fade.**_

_Did you proposition her? _Anders felt cold when Justice didn't answer. _Is there any way she could recognize you? _Silence. He would hear no more from Justice tonight.

"Brooding, Anders? How unlike you." Hawke said, with a raised eyebrow. Her voice dripped with sarcasm, but there was no sting in it. She had forgiven him his careless words.

"Not a bit of it." He said, putting on his warmest smile. "I was just wondering about your…guitar is it called? What is it?"

Hawke's eyes fairly glowed with enthusiasm. She reached for her case and pulled the instrument out with loving hands. "It's like a lute," she said, "but a lute can't stand up to this sound. You need magic to really play it, but even without it, it's still the most amazing instrument I've ever beheld."

"It doesn't look like any lute I've ever seen." Anders said, eyeing the instrument. It was beautiful; he had to give her that. The body was slim and curved like an hourglass, allowing Hawke to curl around it comfortably. It was lacquered midnight blue, flecked with silvery constellations, and polished to a high gloss. It seemed to belong with her. "Where did you get such a thing?"

"A boy made it for her back in Lothering because she sang him a song and gave him a flower." Carver answered, barely suppressed laughter lacing his voice.

"Is that really what happened?" Merrill asked. "Are you sure Varric didn't make that up? It sounds like something he'd say."

"I don't think even I could've come up with that, Daisy." Varric protested. "It's so ridiculously sweet it has to be true. How about it, Hawke? Is that the way it happened?"

"Mostly." Hawke muttered into Fenris's wine cup. "He fell and skinned his knee, so I healed him and put a flower in his hair. He ordered me to sing the song."

Carver did laugh, then. "The way he strutted around all day with that flower in his hair, you would have thought it was a gift from Andraste herself. The next morning he showed up with that guitar for Selene. What was his name? Shoe?"

"Sandal. His name was Sandal." Hawke's eyes sparkled as she remembered him. He was a simply boy, but she liked him. He'd called her Bird. She wondered what had become of him and fervently hoped he survived the Blight. That guitar meant the world to Hawke. It had become an outlet to relieve her despair, to give her peace during troubled times.

"So what was the song? Will we hear it tonight?" Aveline asked.

Hawke closed her eyes and breathed deeply, returning in her mind to the place where she met Sandal.

_It was hot that day, rare for Ferelden. She was staring out at the pond just outside Lothering, watching dragonflies bob and weave over the still water. _

Hawke's fingers moved gently over the strings of her guitar, swaying with the memory of that day.

_It was a warm, lazy song she played him; a song to match the day. She only had a normal lute then, and she was frustrated with her progress. It just didn't convey her feelings. She was tempted to quit, but she had given up on so many things in the two years since her kidnapping. If she didn't hang on to this much at least, she feared she might lose herself._

As she remembered a faint floral smell tickling her nostrils, she began to sing in a low, husky voice. Unbeknownst to her, she'd captivated the Hanged Man.

_She'd followed the smell until she found a single stargazer lily in full bloom. They were her favorite flower, and rare to find growing wild. She knew she should leave it alone, but she couldn't stop herself from picking it._

_Lute and flower in hand, Hawke wandered over to sit under a nearby shade tree, only to discover someone had gotten there first. A dwarven boy looked up at her, pale and tear-stained._

"_Oww!" He sobbed, pointing to his knee. It was just a small scrape, hardly any blood at all, but he was very distressed over it, nonetheless. Hawke smiled gently and brushed her fingers against his wound, healing it instantly. The boy smiled at her tremulously. "Enchantment?" He asked._

"_But don't tell anyone." Hawke said, kindly. She tucked the stargazer lily behind his ear. "Feel better?"_

"_Enchantment!" He exclaimed, flinging himself into her lap. A wide grin split Hawke's face and she wrapped her arms around the boy, resting her chin on his head. It was nice to sit with someone who didn't look at her with pity in their eyes._

"_My name is Hawke." She whispered to him._

"_Bird?" He absently plucked the strings of her lute._

"_Selene."_

"_Moon?" He brightened and pointed to his chest importantly. "Sandal!"_

"_I like you, Sandal." Hawke whispered. "Do you think we could be friends?"_

_Sandal thrust the lute at her. "Play." He commanded, but he refused to leave her lap. She was forced to hold the instrument in front of him and play around him. It was awkward, but it also felt nice. She sang one of her favorite faerie tales to him, about a young boy's dream to run away and practice magic among the Dalish. A dream she had shared once, but now was lost like so many other dreams along the way._

_She never saw Sandal again after that day. She awoke the next morning to discover he and his father had moved on. They'd left her a gift, though. The beautiful blue instrument was leaning against her porch with a sloppily scrawled note that simply read, Bird Guitar Enchantment Sandal._

_As soon as she touched it, she felt a strange resonance that reminded her of her staff. Was it possible? He'd folded lyrium into it! She could feel the lightning crackle in her fingertips as she gave it an experimental strum. The guitar let out a savage wail loud enough to wake the neighbors. She tried again without magic, and it sounded more like a lute, but there was something more to it - something deeper. She let it wail again and fat tears sprang from her eyes. She felt like laughing, like jumping up and down and clapping her hands. She didn't know how Sandal had done it, but she would cherish this gift for the rest of her days, and pray for the day that she might return the favor._

As the last notes of her song faded away, Hawke looked up to discover the Hanged Man had gone completely silent and every last set of eyes was focused on her. She could feel her face heating in another obnoxious blush, and she took a deep drink of wine. She peeked at her companions. No one was saying anything.

"Was - was it that bad?" She asked, nervously. "I haven't played that song in a long time and-"

"Selene, it was so beautiful!" Merrill gushed. "Can you teach me to play the way you do? Will you play another song? Please?" Shouts and cheers rose up around the bar, offering encouragement.

Selene looked at Carver helplessly. "What should I play?"

"Walking the Fade." He answered without hesitation.

"Don't you think it's a little sad for the setting?"

"So play a happy one after. Besides, it's your favorite, and it shows."

Fenris watched with fascination as Hawke launched into another song. Where the first one was warm and languorous, this song seemed to carve out his soul with its mesmerizing intensity. Her fingers danced gracefully over the strings and she sang as if this song were about someone else. Only a fool would believe such a thing. Maker, what had happened to his little mage? What possible reason could Carver have for requesting this song, for forcing his sister to bare her soul to all? His hand tightened on his wine cup and he felt the metal give slightly.

"Hey," Carver said, leaning in so he could talk with Fenris. "She wanted to bring you, you know."

"Bring me where, exactly?" Fenris asked in a flat voice.

"The Deep Roads, you dumb shit. I know you wanted to go. I just thought you should know that she wanted you to come. Aveline talked her out of it. She's going in your place."

"And why does Aveline want to go so badly?"

"Two reasons. First, my sister attracts crazy; second, Selene has saved Aveline's life many times now. I think the guardswoman is seeking to repay the debt. Oh, and one more thing. Aveline came over with us one the ship from Gwaren. She pulled rank."

"I didn't think she was that manipulative." Fenris grumbled.

"All women are." Carver whispered, so as not to be heard. Aveline's complete lack of expression said he'd failed. Carver didn't know how far he should pursue this line of questioning, but he couldn't stop himself from making a foolish promise. "I will protect my sister. She will come out of this whole."

"See that she does." Fenris's tone didn't leave room for response. The conversation was over. He turned his attention back to Hawke. She played with her eyes downcast, so only the people she was sitting with could see how the green danced with the candlelight. She stared at the floor, unseeing. Her voice became hollow and desperate as she sank further into the abyss. He wanted to stop her, there was no need to put herself through this, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. He was bound as surely as everyone else in the room. He could only watch and listen.

Fenris looked around at Hawke's companions. Isabella and clapped one hand over her mouth, her eyes shining with unshed tears. That was a surprise. He would not have expected such emotion from the pirate. Then he noticed several other men and women around the bar, wearing much the same expression. Varric was closely examining Bianca for scratches, carefully keeping his face in the shadows. Merrill wept quietly, uncaring of those who might see her. Anders was the one who interested him, however. His face was pale, his lips bloodless. Every so often, he trembled slightly as he watched her with glittering eyes so dark they were nearly black. He looked terrified and horrified. Did he get something out of the song the rest of them had missed?

Hawke peeked at her companions through her lashes. Favorite song or no, Hawke suddenly wished she hadn't listened to Carver. Her friends looked positively miserable. Her brother, on the other hand, looks like the cat that swallowed the canary. _The sadist._ She thought to herself. Not for the first time, she wondered if Carver enjoyed her awkwardness more than was natural for a little brother. There was only one way to combat the mood she had created. Without pausing to take the hit from the pipe she so desperately wanted, she launched into a happier song. One sure to make them raise their glasses again.

She couldn't resist using just a little magic this time. Not enough for anyone to know what she was doing, just enough to enhance the sound a little. She glanced at Carver who smiled encouragingly. Her voice didn't carry the husky timbre of the first two songs. She sang loud, with confidence, and even let a hint of a smile shine through in her voice. Just as she'd hoped, before long people were tapping their feet to keep the beat. They were smiling again, and some even joined in for the chorus once they got the hang of it. By the time she finished, everyone was smiling again save Anders and Fenris. The elf simply looked thoughtful, but Anders was still staring at her, his face so pale that she wondered if he was ill.

Hawke packed her guitar away with care and hit her pipe with a grateful sigh. Fenris placed a shot in front of her with a questioning smirk. Hawke didn't hesitate to toss it back, and was rewarded for her efforts by a hacking cough. Varric laughed and pounded her between the shoulders.

"That," she gasped, "was not whiskey. Maker, what _was_ that?"

"Absinthe!" Isabella said, with a delighted laugh. "You said a shot to be named later, and that's what we named it!"

"Gahh! You could have warned me. That was awful. Fucking shade piss! Bleckk!" Perhaps not the wisest decision she'd ever made, Hawke took a deep drink of wine to wash the taste of absinthe from her mouth. "Is it fucking warm in here, or what?" Her words seemed slow and exaggerated. Even Fenris joined the laughter this time.

Anders, on the other hand, seemed to have reached the end of his rope. He stood so fast his chair fell back behind him. He strode purposefully toward Hawke and, grasping her arm, hauled her none too gently to her feet. "We need to talk." He growled, his face mere inches from hers. There were too many witnesses here, and she was an apostate. She could not retaliate.

That was not an issue for the rest of her companions. Aveline's hand twitch toward her sword, Carver had unsheathed his. Fenris was not carrying any weapon as such, but his tattoos were glowing like the full moon.

"Son, you're about to get yourself into a whole mess of trouble." Varric said, in carefully casual tones. He leveled Bianca at the offending mage. "Now let the lady go and ask politely."

A muscle in Anders' cheek jumped, but he did as he was told. "Selene, I apologize for manhandling you the way I did. It was wrong, and I hope you'll forgive me. May we please speak privately for a moment?"

"No." Carver, Fenris, and Aveline said in unison.

"Hawke, you should not be alone with him in these circumstances." Fenris pressed.

"Ah, Fenris…Loyal protector of mages, is it?" Anders sneered.

Hawke didn't think it was possible for Fenris to glow any brighter, but he did. "Just Hawke." He said with a dark smile. "Her I will protect until my last breath." He wondered vaguely if this was all a dream. Was that really him, declaring himself for a mage? But she wasn't just any mage. She was his little mage. He frowned, wondering how long he'd though of her that way - as his. It didn't matter. He meant what he said. He could not remember a time before meeting her that he'd truly felt free, and she'd given him that. She always gave him a choice, always encouraged him to live as he wished. Danarius was still out there, but he was confident that she would stand by him when the time came, just as he would stand by her.

A hush had fallen over the Hanged Man, and Hawke wondered how much the other patrons had heard. Carver and Isabella sprang into action. Isabella pulled Hawke into a dark corner and passed her a small dagger.

"You have to leave _now._ Shit, you didn't bring your staff. What do you know about daggers? I can't make you a master, but I can teach you enough to keep you from hurting yourself."

"I can handle it." Hawke said, spinning it neatly in her hand before thrusting it into her belt.

"Don't hesitate to use it. Now go. Fenris will meet you outside.

"Why Fenris?" Hawke's eyes searched him out and found him speaking with Carver in hushed tones.

"Carver and Aveline are going to stay and put off anyone who tries to follow you. I'll get Anders back to his clinic, now go." Isabella thrust Hawke's guitar case into her arms and pushed her toward the door. Hawke went, strapping her case to her back once again so she would have freedom to move.

Fenris's eyes followed Hawke as she left the Hanged Man. Carver snapped his fingers in front of the elf's face. "Take her somewhere safe. I don't care where; just don't let the Templars see her. Meet us in Hightown in the morning. I plan to be the only Hawke the Templars find tonight. Fenris nodded and turned toward the door, but Carver stopped him. "Know this, elf," he warned, "if you lay a hand on my sister without her permission, your lyrium tattoos won't save you." Carver suddenly found himself pinned against the wall.

"Who?" Fenris snarled. "Does he still live?"

"Would that I had a name to give you. They likely died in the Blight." Carver said, shrugging him off. "Selene's outside waiting for you."

"Your trust is not misplaced."

oOo

The scene that greeted Fenris outside the Hanged Man was not what he expected. He knew it was foolish to imagine Hawke cowering in shadows, but neither had he expected to find her staring up at the sky, eyes closed, lips parted, arms stretched wide as the rain beat down on her. Her hair dripped down her back as rivulets of water raced down the column of her neck to caress her shoulders, and down to explore her full breasts, and down, and down until no part of her body had gone unexplored by the storm, and she was left soaking wet and sighing. She had never looked so soft, so touchable before. Fenris was grateful for the darkness; his pants were growing uncomfortably tight. It was going to be a long walk back to his mansion.

"The damage is done." Hawke sighed, when Fenris offered to go back inside to retrieve her coat. "I love the rain." She opened her eyes just a little to look at him. He wasn't wearing his armor or carrying his sword. That seemed significant for some reason. Something moved in her periphery. Everything seemed slow, fuzzy.

For a moment, Fenris thought Hawke was attacking him. Her dagger flashed in front of his face so fast that even if he'd been expecting it, he wouldn't have been able to block it. Then he heard the familiar ring of metal on metal. He didn't know how she was even able to see it, but she used that dagger to deflect and arrow that would have taken him in the throat. She pushed him hard behind her and launched a fireball in the direction the arrow had come from. The following screams said she hit her target.

"Are you alright?" She asked, examining him for injuries.

"I'm fine. Let's get out of here before we're noticed…some more." He said, taking her by the hand and pulling her toward Hightown. The journey to his mansion was relatively quiet, but twice he'd had to press Hawke into the shadows to avoid Templar notice. The second time, the Templars didn't pass through as quickly as they'd hoped. Fenris bowed his head low over hers.

"Put your arms around me." He commanded in a low whisper. "If they think we're lovers they'll be less likely to bother us." Fenris had to suppress a groan as Hawke wound her bare arms around his neck, pressing her body against him. She stiffened slightly when his arms slid around her waist.

"Trust me, Hawke." He murmured into her hair. "I promise you'll always be safe with me. I will never harm you; never allow harm to come to you." He held her trembling form in his arms for several minutes before something inside her seemed to give and her arms tightened around him, pulling his closer.

"Thank you, Fenris." Hawke whispered against his neck. Fenris would have been content to hold her like that all night, but the Templars were gone now and he needed to get her to safety.

A roaring fire sprang up in the fireplace as Fenris led a dripping Hawke to his chambers - the only room of the house he really used. She unstrapped her guitar case and knelt before the hearth. She pulled her guitar out and examined it carefully, making sure it hadn't been damaged or gotten wet. Fenris left her to her task, but returned a few minutes later with towels and a bottle of Agreggio.

"Any damage?" He asked, handing her a towel. He had draped his own over his head, peering out of it like a cowl.

"I don't think so. There is one more thing I have to do to be sure, but I was waiting to ask your permission."

"You didn't ask my permission to light the fire." He pointed out with a smile.

"That was different. You're accustomed to fire. This is something else entirely. I mean, it's just lightning, but the sound is-"

"It's fine. I have to admit you've made me curious." Fenris could feel the mana welling up inside her, resonating with his tattoos. Her fingertips sparked with electricity as she gently brushed the strings. He felt his jaw drop as Hawke's guitar roared to life. She only played a few chords before she nodded her satisfaction.

"Perfect." She sighed, and carefully returned it to the safe confines of its case.

"I've never heard anything like that." Fenris said, in awe. She'd only tested it out. He was suddenly eager to hear her play a full song. She had stirred something in him. Those eerily wailing notes made his heart pound and set fire to his blood.

"I have to travel away from cities to play it properly, but it's worth it. Do you play an instrument?"

Fenris shook his head. "Slaves are not permitted such things." He said, bitterly.

"Were not, you mean."

"I'm sorry?"

"Well, you're a free man now, are you not? You could learn if you wished." She smiled brilliantly when she looked at him. The first true smile he had seen from her. Maker, she was gorgeous. Her eyes sparkled sea green as the corners of her mouth curved upwards revealing straight, white teeth. Her hastily towel-dried hair hung limp in her face, making her look wild and exotic. He wanted to touch her, to have another excuse to pull her into his arms. Instead, he drank deeply from the bottle of Agreggio.

"Are you certain that's wise?" Hawke asked. She was still feeling the effects of the absinthe, all floaty and giddy and tingly.

"I'm accustomed to it." He assured her. "Besides, if you join me, I'll only drink half as much."

"As flawlessly logical as ever." She said, taking the bottle from him.

"Good of you to notice." He murmured, offering Hawke a chair. She declined in favor of standing in of the fireplace. "You're cold. I'll find you some dry clothes."

"You needn't concern yourself. It doesn't look like this storm is going to break any time soon."

Fenris stared. Isabella didn't tell her? "Hawke, you can't go home tonight. Those Templars were looking for someone. Stay here tonight and I will escort you to the meeting place tomorrow. Carver will be there with your staff and your pack. It's best to lay low tonight. I'm sorry, I thought you knew."

Hawke grew very still as the magnitude of the evening dawned on her. It had been a narrow escape tonight. "I should be fucking ashamed of myself." She said. "I've been doing this my whole life, and I didn't even think tonight. I just followed blindly where I was led. I'll never keep my freedom like this."

Fenris didn't say anything for a minute. Was she always so hard on herself? "You saved my life tonight." He told her, quietly. "I didn't see that arrow; I never sensed even the slightest bit of danger. I was unarmored and unarmed, and you protected me. There is no fault in taking a moment to breathe. You are safe here."

"And what happened if they catch me while I'm breathing? I have earned a reputation among the Templars. There will be no trial. They will make me Tranquil if they catch me. You are right to hate mages after what has been done to you, but I will die before I let the Templars sever my soul."

Fenris's stomach twisted painfully at the thought. "Hawke, I-"

"Well, if I'm staying, I think I'll take you up on those dry clothes after all." She interrupted him cheerfully.

"Of course." He said, both grateful and bewildered by the sudden change in the conversation. He recalled that some women's clothing had been left behind after he took Danarius's mansion. He rummaged through a chest until he found something that didn't feel like blood magic. A simple gown of white silk. _Probably intended for a virgin sacrifice._ He thought with a grimace. He did not share this with Hawke, however. He handed her the gown and led her to an adjoining room so she could have some privacy.

She returned a few minutes later looking positively angelic. The dress was several inches too long for her, the silk pooled at her feet. It was a little too tight in the bust, the scooped neckline accenting the gentle swell of her breasts and showing the slightest hint of cleavage. She had twisted her hair into a hasty bun, and several wispy tendrils escaped to frame her face and tickle her neck. In the soft light, he could see the outline of her lush body through the dress. Fenris's mouth went dry.

"I think this dress may have been intended for virgin sacrifices." She voiced his own thoughts back to him. "What do you think?" She asked, spreading her arms wide. Her belled sleeves trailed nearly to the floor. Laughter danced in her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me your first name?" He hadn't meant to say that, but the words tumbled from his lips before he could stop himself. Her arms dropped back to her sides and she moved to sit next to him, staring thoughtfully into the fire.

Your name means "wolf" does it not?" She waited for his nod before continuing. "My name means "moon." I didn't want you to think I was teasing you. Varric certainly snickered about it when Carver told him. Given your feelings toward mages, I truly didn't think you cared to know. In your eyes, Merrill and Anders are the Blood Mage and the Abomination. You never give them their names. I suppose I felt lucky to be Hawke."

"You are not like them, Selene." He liked her name, liked the way it tasted on his tongue. It suited her. "I can see your strength. You've suffered your own tribulations, but you did not fold under the pressure. Real strength lies in the choices you make. I would not follow you if I did not believe that."

"Thank you, Fenris. That means more to me than you know."

They sat together in front of the fire for a long time, talking softly, smoking, and sharing wine; Fenris wondered again if they were friends. This certainly felt more intimate than friendship, although he had to admit that his perception of such things was skewed. He asked her about growing up in Ferelden, about her music, about how her life had changed since moving to Kirkwall. He was very interested to learn of her work in the Chantry.

"I go for the children, mostly; we play songs and games, I teach them to read, write, how to keep track of figures so maybe they can find work when they come of age." She said this dismissively, as though it wasn't one of the kindest, most generous things Fenris had ever heard of.

"When do you sleep?" He asked, only half joking.

"Five hours the third day of every week." She answered, seriously. Fenris choked on his wine.

"That's not enough for a person to live on. How is it that you don't collapse from exhaustion?"

"Magic." The corners of Hawke's mouth quirked into a smile.

"You're going to bed." His hands closed around her arms and he lifted her to her feet. He tried not to feel hurt when she brushed his hands away.

"I'm fine, yesterday was my sleep day."

"Does Carver know about this?" Fenris rolled his eyes and cursed in Tevinter when she didn't answer him. "You're going to sleep even if I have to hit you over the head and put you in that bed myself."

"Where are you going to sleep?"

"I usually sleep on the floor. I can't remember ever having a bed, and the mattress is too soft."

"You can't say something like that and honestly expect me to sleep there now?" Her voice was incredulous.

"Alright," Fenris said, with a heavy sigh. "You wait here while I found something to club you with."

Hawke's eyes widened at that and a startled giggle escaped her. Fenris was looking at her like he'd never seen her before. He was standing close enough that she could feel the heat rolling off his body. She did not move away this time. She felt something for this elf. She wasn't sure what it was or what to do about it, but she knew she liked being near him. He was easier to be around than the others, somehow. He had proven himself to her time and time again. She trusted Fenris.

"Compromise," she mused. "I'll lie down, but I can't promise to sleep. Resting my body will have to suffice."

"Why do you fight it so?"

"Can you blame me for not wanting to enter the Fade?"

Fenris reached out and threaded his long fingers through her hair, releasing it from its bun. _My poor little mage, _he thought to himself. _Never to know peace, even in sleep. _"I cannot protect you from the Fade, but I will watch over you this night, Selene Hawke." He pushed her gently into bed and covered her with a thick blanket. "Sleep." He commanded softly.

"You're not the boss of me." She grumbled, stifling a yawn. She snuggled deeper into the mattress and was sleeping in minutes.

Fenris stared down at her for a long time, Carver's words ringing in his ears. _They likely died in the Blight._ This time he welcomed the familiar burn of his lyrium tattoos. He pulled deeper and deeper from the mana branded into his skin, glowed brighter and brighter until he thought he might burn himself alive. It was not enough. A violent storm was brewing inside him and he didn't know if he could contain it. Someone had dared to touch his Hawke. He wanted to shake her awake and demand answers, but he didn't think Carver had intended to confirm anything. Still, he had learned a lot about Hawke this evening, and he would learn the truth of this as well.

He did not feel better. He paced the room several times, but he didn't get anywhere. His mind raced in similar circles. There was nothing he could do, yet he could not simply pretend to be ignorant. He burned for this crime to be punished. Savagely. All thought fled Fenris's mind, however, when he felt something change in the room. It was subtle, but something was missing. It was Hawke. She was still in bed, apparently asleep, but her mana was draining faster than he could believe. Hawke was suddenly sitting bolt upright, gasping for air. Her green eyes were wild and glazed, glaring but not seeing.

"I…WILL…NOT!" She sobbed. She fell back and her body jerked a couple of times before she was still.

Fenris was at her side in an instant, shaking her. One hand gripped her chin, the other fisted in her hair, forcing her to look at him. He was intensely relieved to see the brilliant green of her eyes staring back at him instead of the jet black of demonic possession. It was not enough to be sure.

"Fenris?" She still didn't seem to be entirely awake.

"Forgive me, Hawke. I must do this." He whispered, dropping his forehead against hers. He saw her eyes well with tears, then harden into resolve. When he felt her nod against him, he took a deep breath and punched her hard in the stomach. Hawke tried to double over, struggling to remain breathing, but Fenris's hand still gripped her hair. He brutally yanked her back, forcing her to meet his gaze again. His eyes were filled with compassion, his face was pale.

"Do it." Hawke rasped. She touched his tattoo where it curled around his neck.

He nodded bleakly as he thrust his hand into her chest, trying to be gentle as he caressed her heart. Hawke threw her head back and screamed until Fenris wondered how she had any breath left in her. She did not struggle though, and her eyes did not change. A demon would have defended itself. He released and allowed her to catch her breath, all the while murmuring heartfelt apologies for what he had done to her. When he tried to move away, she grabbed a fistful of his tunic.

"Please," she gasped. He could hear the tears in her voice. "If you can stand to be near me now, please don't leave."

The words were no sooner out of her mouth than she was cradled against his chest and he was stroking her hair. "I do not expect you to forgive me for that, Hawke, but I would have you know that I did not want to do it."

Hawke was still gasping and trembling convulsively in his arms, but she managed a small chuckle. "Forgive you? I expected you to kill me. If I should ever lose the battle someone will have to…Would you really have done it?"

"Yes." He went very still when Hawke wrapped her arms around him and squeezed him tight. He gasped slightly when he felt her press her lips to his chest, just above his heart.

"Thank you, Fenris." She whispered with a deep, shuddering sigh. "I knew I could count on you."

She was _thanking_ him? Fenris had seen many strange things in the short time he was able to remember, but the mage he was holding in his arms surpassed anything he could imagine. The fact that he was holding a mage was astounding enough. Two months ago, if you had told him he would be in this position he might have laughed, but it was more likely he would have removed your head from your body.

Hawke made room for Fenris to stretch out next to her in the bed, and then curled against him once again. He was warm and he smelled good, like lyrium and leather and herbal soap. He had wrapped one arm around her shoulders, holding her more tightly against him. His other hand held hers against his chest. She had never expected to lie with a man like this, never though to find comfort in any man's arms. She wondered briefly if this made them lovers. It felt like more than friendship to her. She could not imagine lying this way with Varric or Anders. She peeked up at him and was startled to find his forest green eyes staring back at her through the veil of his snow white hair.

"Did I hurt you very badly? Do you need healing?" He asked. His voice was filled with concern.

"I feel a little bruised, but it's not that bad. I could heal it but I don't think I will. It is good to keep reminders of the price of failure."

"Does this happen often? What does your family do?"

"Often enough. Carver and I have an arrangement. He is prepared to do what must be done."

"Are you certain he can? You are his sister."

"There is no one else."

_There is me._ He kept the thought to himself. Although she had thanked him earlier, he did not believe a promise to kill her would bring her comfort. He was more than content to hold her through the night. He sighed deeply and his eyes drifted closed.

oOo

When he opened them again pale morning light was playing outside his window. Hawke was still awake, looking none the worse for wear after the trying night before. Apparently, she was more accustomed to this sort of thing than he'd been willing to believe…Or she'd been through enough that last night wasn't so bad. Neither thought was comforting to him. They were silent as they readied themselves to meet Carver in Hightown, silent and filled with awkwardness and curiosity.

"Will you do something for me while I'm gone?" Hawke's voice was small and hesitant.

Fenris stared at her. She was wearing one of his tunics, black with billowing sleeves, and tucked into the tight leather pants she was wearing last night. Her auburn hair seemed to float around her, wild and unruly. No matter how nervous she sounded, she looked bold, strong, ready to clear the Deep Roads of any obstacle that might stand in her way. He resisted the urge to beg her to take him with her. "If it is within my power." He answered.

"Will you keep my guitar for me? I don't think it's worth much to anyone but me, but I don't trust Gamlen not to sell it. Please?"

"Of course. It will be here when you return."

Hawke's smile lit up the room. "What would I do without you?" She asked. Fenris could feel his heart swelling in his chest over her words.

oOo

It was still too early for most people to be up and about in Hightown. It was a quiet walk to meet Hawke's party. Carver waved them over; he was holding Hawke's staff, her pack was at his feet.

Fenris drew his sword when a blond and red blur streaked past him to tackle Hawke to the ground. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to what he was seeing.

"Bird!" The boy exclaimed, bouncing eagerly in Hawke's lap.

"_Sandal?_" Hawke's voice cracked on his name, and she wrapped her arms tightly around him as though she never meant to let him go. Fenris's heart skipped a beat when she laughed. Not the small chuckles she had gifted him with last night. Hawke was truly, joyfully, tearfully laughing as she rained kisses down on Sandal's face and hair. She whispered her thanks to him like a prayer and held his face in her hands, drinking in the sight of him with tender, sparkling eyes that Fenris had never seen look his way. For a moment, he felt the stab of jealousy, jagged and cruel, but thinking of his stoic little mage, he could only be happy that someone was able to touch her this way.

"Any trouble last night?" Carver asked. Fenris had been so engrossed with the scene before him that he hadn't even heard Selene's brother approach.

Fenris shook his head. "The Templars look, but they do not see."

"What about the disturbance outside the tavern?"

"Nothing more than a disturbance. Selene handled it in her usual manner. What is he doing here?" Fenris jerked his chin toward Anders.

"He says he wants to see her off." Carver said in disgusted tones. He had no more love for the mage than Fenris did.

"I do not care for the way he watches your sister."

"He said the same about you. There is no danger from him. He does not really see her." Carver scoffed. "Selene would never fall for his tricks. He is weak, a manipulator. He has no true strength."

"Why do you allow it?"

"_Allow_ isn't a word a wise person uses with Selene. She thinks to show him another way to live. Him and that blood mage."

"It is as difficult to doubt her as it is to believe in them." Fenris muttered, earning a smile from Carver.

Hawke seemed to have gathered herself, and Varric called her and Carver over to have words with Bartrand. Anders strolled over to stand next to Fenris.

"You are a danger to her." Fenris growled. "I will not allow you to corrupt her."

"I care for Hawke." Anders insisted. "I understand her. What can you offer her besides your bitterness?"

"Hawke is not like you. I would see that it stays that way." Fenris glanced at Anders to see his skin was beginning to crack as Justice pushed himself forward. "Compose yourself, mage. People can see you." He said through clenched teeth.

After several deep, shuddering breaths Anders was himself again, but Hawke was looking at him from across the square. Her face was expressionless as ever, but her eyes betrayed her concern. When Bartrand had finished his rather graphic pep talk she made her way over to them, Carver, Aveline, and Varric fast on her heels.

"Are you alright? Has something happened?" Hawke asked. Anders felt as though her eyes were looking into him, picking through details and discarding them until she found the source of the disturbance. Anders thought it should be obvious.

"Everything is fine, sweetheart." Anders said smoothly, taking one of her hands with both of his. "And you? Are you alright? I would like to apologize again for my behavior last night. It was supposed to be a special evening for you and I ruined it. I hope you will come to see me when you return." He brought her hand to his lips before she could pull away.

"I would like that, Anders." Hawke said, polite as always. "_Please_ try to stay out of trouble while I'm gone." She turned to Fenris, suddenly shy. "Thank you so much for last night." She whispered, staring at the ground.

Fenris tilted Hawke's chin up to meet his gaze. He brushed her hair aside. His hand lingered on her face, which he studied as though trying to memorize every detail. He slowly bent to brush his lips against her forehead. "Return to me safely, Selene." His voice was smooth and deep. Hawke blushed as she raised a hesitant hand to rest against his chest where it had lingered the night before. She nodded silently and slipped away from him to join the rest of the expedition to the Deep Roads. She did not look back.

"What was so special about last night that she thanked you?" Anders asked, eyeing the elf suspiciously.

Fenris smiled. "I don't know what it was to her, but it may have been the best night of my life." He left Anders gaping after him.

oOo

_**So, I know there was extra cheese on that one, but it was fun to write. If you're wondering about the songs Hawke played, here they are in the order she played them:**_

**A Cloak of Elvenkind** by Marcy Playground

**Walking the Fade is actually called Heron Blue** by Sun Kil Moon

**Won't Back Down** by Tom Petty


	11. Chapter 11

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for._

_Hawke returns from the Deep Roads and all is not well…_

_Bioware owns all…_

**The Unbearable Darkness of Being**

"You'll do it, won't you, Sis?"

_My fault, my fault, my fault. I didn't see it. __**How could I not see it?**_Hawke cursed herself over and over again as she looked into her brother's blighted eyes. They were fevered and glassy and seemed to draw in the light and reflect it back. Hawke choked on a sob. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen. Carver was supposed to kill _her_. They'd prepared for it; they'd agreed! It wasn't supposed to be like this. She dropped her head against his chest and nodded. How could she do any less? She was only vaguely aware of Aveline leading Varric away to give them some privacy.

"I should have listened to Mother." Hawke said miserably, sitting beside her brother.

"I would have hated you forever if you'd left me behind."

"But you'd be alive! You could hate me as much as you want and I wouldn't care so long as you were safe! Everything I've done - I only wanted to protect you. Back in Lothering…" Her voice broke. She couldn't continue.

"Selene…" Carver said, gently. "After everything we've been through, after all this time, if it's still too much for you to talk about, I think maybe it's better that I don't know. You are the strongest person I know. If you cannot even speak of it, I think I would not rest peacefully with the truth. But I hope you'll tell someone someday. You are drowning yourself in loneliness, Selene, and there are people who would care for you if you let them."

Selene studied Carver's strong profile. He had resented her, it was true, and she had earned it. But she never doubted his love for her. How many times had he saved her life? She would never forget that night a month after Carver had carried her home.

_The moon was high, and bright enough to diminish the stars. An icy wind lashed Selene's hair against her face and pebbled her skin as she ran, barefoot, into the night. She did not stop until she was waist deep in the frozen pond just outside the city._

_Tears ran silent and cold down her face as she examined the glass blade of her athame. A scratch on the finger would be enough, it was poisoned so heavily. It was cruel to her family, she knew, but she just couldn't stay here any longer. When her dreams were not haunted by nightmares of her abduction, she was plagued by demons and spirits alike, offering her the power to exact her revenge, the power to make sure nothing like this would ever happen again. When she resisted they dug through her memories, forcing her to relive it all and offering relief once again. She couldn't get away from it. There was nowhere to run. The black blade flashed in the moonlight as she raised it over her wrist._

"_You only get one life, you know." A voice called from the shore. Carver. "I never figured you'd take the easy way out." Those were the first words he'd spoken to her since he stormed from the room the day she came home. He was walking toward her slowly, cautiously entering the icy water._

"_Every night, Carver. Every night demons wait for me to sleep. It's getting harder and harder to fight them. What do you think will happen if I fail? Who will stand against me?"_

"_I will. I will not let them have you." He pried the dagger from her frozen grasp. "I'm going to keep this and carry it with me. From now on I go where you go. I will protect you, Selene, from the world, from yourself. I will protect the world from you. You don't have to be afraid anymore because I will do what I must. But it doesn't need to be done now. I do not believe you survived to die now."_

_Selene stared u at him, speechless. Was this really her little brother? He'd become a man when she wasn't looking. She collapsed against his chest and cried until there was nothing left but great, empty sobs. What manner of monster was she to force such a promise from him?_

He had resented her, opposed her at every turn, but he never left her side, guarding her, sleeping and awake. To this day she was besought by demons, but Carver was always there. Her brother. Her Shield.

"I'm sorry, Carver. I'm sorry for bringing you here. I'm sorry for killing you."

"I asked for this, Selene. I asked for all of it. It's not your fault. Bethany wasn't your fault. None of it was. You were just caught in it like the rest of us."

_My fault, my fault, my fault…_ Her mind chanted at her. She folded her arms around him. "Thank you, little brother. That means a lot to me."

"It's just you now. Take care of Mother." Selene nodded, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. One hand moved to cradle the back of his head. "I'm ready, Selene. Do it."

A broken sob forced its way out of her. "I love you, Carver. I promise it won't hurt."

"I love you too, sister." He handed her the athame. "Try to live."

"I will." Carver looked peaceful, then. More like the boy he was back in Lothering. Selene burned that image into her mind before a spike of ice burst from her palm, separating his brain from his spinal cord. He went limp in her arms, and she closed his eyes with gentle fingers. She was filled with horror as his lifeblood flowed over her hands and onto her robes, but she could not make herself let him go. She screamed something; she didn't know what it was. She didn't feel attached to her body anymore. This was happening to someone else. This was someone else's heartbreak. She held him, rocking and crying until his body went cold. Then, slowly, she began to gather stones for a makeshift grave. She would not leave him exposed to the darkspawn.

**oOo**

Varric and Aveline waited nervously for Hawke to return. Aveline was especially nervous. She did not envy her friend this task. Her own experience still haunted her dreams, and after being blamed for her sister's death, Aveline wondered if Hawke could rise to the occasion.

Varric turned his face to the floor, staring inwardly. He should never have approached the Hawkes that day in Hightown. Then they'd both still have brothers. Bartrand would answer for this with his life, that much was certain. It would not be enough. Varric knew he would never be able to atone for this. He had given his already troubled friend one more burden to carry on her slim shoulders. She barely communicated as it was. He worried that grief would swallow her whole.

His fear was confirmed when her anguished scream tore though the passages of the Deep Roads. The sound was barely human, and it rang in Varric's ears so long, he feared it would never leave, that he would wander the rest of his days with Hawke's despair wailing in his mind. He hadn't realized had started moving until he felt Aveline's hand on his shoulder.

"Leave her be for now, Varric." She said.

"She can't - She needs to know we're here for her. She doesn't have to be alone."

"She wants to be alone. Maker, Varric, let her grieve. She will come to us when she's ready. She knows we'll be waiting."

"I don't want to wait; I want to help my friend." Varric growled.

"Well you can't, so quit being so selfish. I don't doubt your concern for her, but right now you just want her to forgive you so you can feel better. Give her time. We have a long way to go yet and there will be plenty of time to talk to her."

Varric wanted to argue, but he couldn't deny the truth of Aveline's words. They sat down to wait. It was two hours before Hawke came shuffling from the room where they'd left her. She didn't look at them, didn't say anything. She just continued on toward the surface. Varric and Aveline exchanged worried frowns before following her.

**oOo**

Fenris prowled through his mansion, pausing every so often to topple a table or curio cabinet. Hawke's party was more than a week late in returning and his imagination was running wild with worry. He didn't know what he would do if she was dead. A cruel voice inside him asked why it mattered. He didn't know. He only knew that it did matter. Fiercely.

Then Varric had appeared on his doorstep. They'd been back for three days. He explained to Fenris how Carver had died and that Selene had shut herself away. She was barely talking to anyone, preferring to stick with one-word answers. Fenris stood, intending to go to her, but Varric stopped him with the same advice Aveline had forced on him.

"She needs time, Fenris. She will return when she's ready. I just thought you would want to know."

It was another week before he saw her. She arrived at his mansion one night, a pale shadow of her former self. Her eyes were dull, her hair had lost its shine, and she'd lost weight. Her high cheekbones were more prominent, he collarbone poked through her robes. The dark circles under her eyes told him she had missed several of her "sleep days."

"Hawke-"

"Carver's dead." Her voice was flat and emotionless. She didn't look at him. She swayed slightly and allowed Fenris to lead her inside. She moved mechanically, not really looking where she was going, only sitting because that was what was expected of her. She stared at the floor. "I killed him."

Fenris looked at her sharply. "The Blight killed Carver. It was not your fault."

"I was the one who took his life. I am responsible. I should never have brought him down there with me. Mother begged me not to. It's no one's fault but mine."

"You were always together. He would almost certainly have followed you. He made the choice, Selene." Panic filled him when she pulled a wicked looking dagger from her belt and examined it in the candlelight. Volcanic glass, unless he missed his guess, jet black and menacing.

"This is my athame. Carver's carried it for me these four years, ready to do what was necessary when the time came. To him, to you, it's just an ordinary dagger. Just a small scratch would kill me in minutes. I never thought it would turn out like this."

Fenris wanted to snatch the knife away from her and smash it in the fireplace, but at the same time he was proud of her for taking such precautions. She truly understood the danger of her nature. He was sad that it was such a heavy burden for her to bear. "I am sorry, Selene. Carver was a fine man who cared for you deeply. I don't know what to say, but if you need anything, I am here."

Selene took a deep, shuddering breath. "There is something I would ask of you, Fenris, though I am loath to give voice to it. That you may refuse goes without saying…" She trailed off, unable to find the right words.

Fenris rescued her from her discomfort by taking the athame away from her and turning it over in his hands. It felt heavier than it looked, as though its darkness had swallowed the light. "Are you certain you want me to have this, Selene?"

"I need someone I can trust not to hesitate. You would not let me live as an abomination, would you?"

"No, I would not." His voice was hard, but his heart lurched at the thought. He hadn't lied to her, though. He would never allow a demon to possess his little mage. He would become her shield in truth. His envy for Carver faded to sympathy as his determination turned to dread. He'd accepted her athame; Maker send he never had to use it.

"I am sorry, Fenris. I truly do not wish to pass this burden to anyone, but someone must do it. I will continue to fight, but someday I could lose the battle. I am a powerful mage. I do not say this in ego, but because I cannot be allowed to run free as an abomination. The results would be disastrous. From now on you must go where I go and always carry that dagger with you. Are you certain you still wish to take this responsibility?"

"I will not fail you, Hawke."

"I would not have you see it that way. I do not want you to feel obligated to do this. It is a sad thing for you to win your freedom only to tie yourself to me, a mage. So I'll ask you again. Are you certain you want this?"

"You are unlike any mage I've ever known. I don't feel obligated to protect you, Hawke. I want to do it. Since meeting you, I've desired nothing more than to fight at your side. That you carry such a thing is proof that you are worth fighting for." He thought she might be relieved, but he wasn't sure. She was harder to read than ever. This wasn't the same as her mask of serenity. Her eyes had become bottomless pools of nothingness.

"If this duty should ever…chafe, if you should ever wish to move on without me, you are absolutely free to do so. It's important that you know that. Just leave my athame. You _are_ a free man, Fenris. I would not tie a leash to you. I want you to know that I appreciate your presence in my life. In return for your protection, I offer you mine. Not so different from our original agreement, I know, but I will not see you fall in battle. Anything you need from me - anything at all, you have only to speak it and I will see it done. If it is not within my power, I will find a way. Until you send me away, I will remain at your side until Danarius falls at your feet. While there is breath in my body you will never again know that shackles of slavery. No matter what happens, no matter how far, send for me, and I will come. I swear it."

Fenris stared at her in amazement. It was a passionate declaration delivered in a flat, emotionless voice. He did not doubt her, but he felt farther away from her now than when they had first met. It wasn't true, of course. She had put great trust in him, had sought him out to ask for his protection, had asked him to be her constant companion. She had offered him more than he had ever dared to hope. Why didn't it feel right? She sat in the chair across from him, staring at the floor, looking every bit like a broken doll. Carver's death had created a void in Selene that Fenris didn't think could ever be filled. There was one thing he could do for her, at least. He retrieved her guitar case from the place Hawke had stashed it the night before she left, less than a month ago and half a world away. He didn't say anything, just leaned the case against her knee and returned to his chair.

Selene didn't look up, but her slender fingers reached out to caress the smooth leather case. She breathed a heavy sigh and turned her eyes on Fenris for the first time since she arrived. She almost looked like herself for a moment, but it was gone before he could be sure it was ever really there.

"Would you like to come with me to the Wounded Coast? I think it might be good to play for a while."

"I would like that very much."

"It won't be like the other songs you heard. It's-"

"Hawke. Quite trying to scare me away. I'm not afraid of you or your weird lute. Wherever you go, I will follow. I will never be far from you."

"Thank you, Fenris. I am lucky you have found a friend in you." Hawke strapped her guitar to her back and hefted her staff.

**oOo**

They encountered a band of raiders along the Coast, which they dispatched with relative ease. Fenris was relieved to note that there was nothing mechanical about Hawke on the battlefield. She was as fierce as ever, if not more so. She had grown in power significantly since last he saw her. She seemed hyper-aware of her surroundings, barely needing to look before casting a barrage of spells faster than he could believe. _So much for protecting her._ Fenris thought sheepishly, realizing most of the kills were hers. Hawke shrugged and continued on her way as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened. Fenris supposed that was true enough, though. Just another day in the life of Selene Hawke.

She strode ahead purposefully. It was clear she had a specific destination in mind, and before long she had led Fenris through a labyrinth to a clearing that stood high over the sea. The moon was bright and shattered against the water, giving life to rocky spires that reached for the sky. It was a beautiful place, far from Kirkwall and positioned in such a way that they could only be seen by fishermen, and none would dare come too close to these rocky shoals. There was no way in but the path they had taken.

Selene bade Fenris to sit under a willow tree, and before he could stop her, she took a running start and used her staff to vault herself over to one of the closer rock formations, worn flat and smooth by years of wind and rain. She stood there for a long time, holding her guitar and staring at the sky, until Fenris began to wonder if she'd changed her mind. Then he heard a faint rumble of thunder. He could see a storm on the horizon, lightning crackling to reveal boiling cloud formations. The wind rose, cold and electric, and Hawke began to play.

Her guitar was angry and jarring, marching to a strange rhythm as her voice flowed around the sound of it like smoke. Her song cried to the heavens for Carver's return. A tightness formed in Fenris's chest, making it difficult for him to breathe. She played on and on, sharing her despair with the night until Fenris thought he might be swept away with it, never to know the warm comfort of daylight again. And still she was not finished. The wind howled and tore at her robes, the storm whipping itself into a rage around her as she and her guitar screamed their defiance. Lightning flew from her fingertips, and her eyes blazed in the darkness, wild and fierce and angry. Fenris could not ever remember seeing the like of this mage. He had never heard music sound so raw. His friend was bleeding inside, and he was helpless to stem the flow.

The music stopped abruptly, along with the wind. Fenris felt his jaw drop. _Hawke_ had caused that storm? He had known she was powerful, but even Danarius was not strong enough to manipulate the weather in such a way. A strange feeling thrilled through his blood, burning and freezing him at the same time, and Fenris wondered if it was fear or excitement. He hoped it was fear. It would be logical to fear her. After coming from a land of dark magic, where magisters would perform any atrocity to augment their power, he thought he'd seen the extent of what magic could do, and Hawke had outstripped them all with a few songs. It was likely to be at least ten more years before she reached her full potential. And he had sought to tie himself to her. He wondered when exactly he had taken leave of his senses and if he would ever encounter them again. He knew he could walk away and Hawke would understand, but he knew just as surely that he would not. She was his savior and he would never leave her. He would remain at her side in any capacity.

Hawke vaulted herself back to the mainland and stared, blank-faced out over the water. "Carver loved it here." Fenris felt cold at the flat monotone of Hawke's voice. "We came out here almost every day. We disagreed on almost everything, but no matter how angry we got, he would never miss a chance to hear me play."

"He was a good man. It was my honor to know him."

"I am a liar."

"I'm sorry?"

"I am a liar, Fenris. I kept a terrible secret from Carver for years, and when the time came to tell the truth I couldn't do it. The words just stuck in my throat."

"There are always regrets after losing someone close to you." Fenris said, awkwardly. He couldn't speak from personal experience, he couldn't begin to imagine what Hawke was going through; but he had heard someone say those words once and thought it was appropriate.

"I wish he hadn't forgiven me. I didn't deserve it."

"Enough, Hawke. He didn't forgive you so you could torture yourself. I will not hear any more of this. Whatever secret you kept from him doesn't matter anymore because he let it go, and you should, too." He took her by the shoulders and pulled her away from the ledge, but she shrugged him off. "Perhaps I should see you home."

"No." Hawke said, firmly. "Until Danarius is dead, I will be seeing you home, Fenris."

"I thought I was supposed to protect you."

"Demons will not possess me on the walk home."

"And what of Templars?"

"They patrol in pairs. I'm strong enough to handle two. They will not possess me, either." The last came out in a low growl. "Besides, I know you support the order, Fenris. I would not see their blood on your hands."

Didn't she understand? He would see the streets flow with Templar blood to keep her out of their hands. But she knew him and would not ask him to betray his beliefs. Her respect had become the most important thing in the world to him. Even among the other slaves, no one had ever shown him the consideration she had. He didn't understand her. All the power in the world at her fingertips, and she spent her time with apostates, thieves, and slaves. _What was she doing?_

Hawke watched Fenris from the corner of her eye as he ghosted through the night alongside her. She had been relieved when he accepted her athame, but she sorely regretted offering it to him. All of his known life he had spent trying to escape mages, and she had shackled him as surely as Danarius had. Carver had never been able to find his own way because of her, and now she'd done the same to Fenris.

_My fault, my fault, my fault, so sorry, so sorry…_Hawke shook her head, trying to clear the thought from her mind, but it was never far from her, always waiting to remind her of what she had done. But Fenris didn't blame her, didn't judge her. He walked silently beside her, studying her with eyes filled with concern. She had handed him a heavy burden already, she didn't want to add to his worry. She would have to try harder. Be stronger.

When they arrived at his door, Fenris looked at Hawke for a long time; watching with growing concern as she struggled to meet his gaze. She tried to put on a brave face, but to him, she looked more broken than ever. "Maker, I hate it when people say this to me, but if you ever want to talk about it…"

Hawke's eyes immediately dropped back to the ground. "I appreciate that, Fenris." She whispered, and turned to face the lonely darkness that awaited her.

"Hawke!" She stopped, but she did not turn around. "I expect to see you here in the morning." She gave him a curt nod and disappeared into the night.

Fenris waited until the click of her heels was barely audible before he followed her. Fenris crept silently in the shadows, keeping as far back from Hawke as he dared. She kept her eyes on the ground, looking neither left nor right, walking in that eerily mechanical way. It was just something she did because her mother was waiting. She kept going because it was her duty, but he didn't think she cared for her own life at all anymore.

She did not appear to notice when a hulking shape stepped out of the shadows. A dagger flashed in the moonlight, and before Fenris could draw his sword, the footpad burst into flames as well as three others that he hadn't seen. She never looked up, never stopped her slow shuffle down the street. She only paused when she reached the man who stepped out of the shadows. She kicked him onto his back and Fenris thought he heard her mutter, "Not enough left to identify." She pulled her pipe from her belt pouch, hit it once, and continued on her way. Fenris followed a little farther back than before. He very much did not want her to mistake him for an enemy.

She arrived at home without further incident, but she did not enter. "Fenris." She called softly, and waited for him to step into the light. "I allowed you to escort me home tonight to soothe your pride. As you can see, I am perfectly capable of walking home alone. Please do not take needless risks on my behalf."

"And when do I get to protect you, Hawke?" He asked, bitterly. She would hand him this duty and then take it away? He would not accept that.

"When I sleep. That is when the danger is the greatest."

"Then you should be sleeping with me. That's not what I meant." Fenris's face heated when he realized what he'd said. Hawke was absent her usual blushes. She stared at him with all the expression of a brick wall, but she cocked her head to the side in a considering way.

"Carver used to sit by my bed while I slept." She said, quietly. She turned her eyes back to the ground and scuffed her boot against a paving stone. "I will let you know when my sleep day comes again. Good night, Fenris. I shall be very cross with you if you are hurt on your way home."

She did not look at him again, only went inside, closing the door behind her with a barely audible click. Fenris had expected her to slam the door hard enough to shake the rafters. She'd clearly been irritated that he disobeyed her; why didn't she lash out? He had just sworn himself to her, was he not worth the trouble of a response? Anger and dejection boiled in him as he made his way home. He'd always hated the mask she wore, but he hated this more because he knew it wasn't a mask. He pounded his fist into the wall until his knuckles were broken and bloody, but pain was a distant thing. Carver had broken his promise. Selene had not returned whole.

He wondered vaguely how he was going to explain his broken hand to her.

**End Act 1**

_Sorry Carver fans, but if this is going to be a tragedy, I say, let's go for it._

_Next update coming soon!_


	12. Chapter 12

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for._

_Sebastian joins the party and learns of the darkness lurking within himself._

_Bioware owns all…_

**The Starkhaven Raven**

It had been nearly a month since Lady Hawke had visited the Chantry. She had come every other day like clockwork for more than a year, and then one day, without a word, she had disappeared. The Prince of Starkhaven was beginning to worry. The children told him that she had gone adventuring in the Deep Roads, but he hadn't believed them. She was bold, certainly, but not foolish. But after the third week had passed and there was still no word of her, he started to believe.

The children had faith that Lady Hawke would return - she had promised them. The Gland Cleric attempted to soothe him, saying that the Maker watched over all of his children, but Sebastian could not forget the conversation he'd had with her.

She'd been coming to the Chantry for several weeks to give lessons to the children, and he'd learned her schedule. She had shut down the Flint Company mercenaries for him, but otherwise she barely looked his way. He'd been watching her, though. She never talked to anyone but the children and the Grand Cleric, and all of them had come away completely enchanted. Mother Elthina had even suggested he court her. He had forsaken his vows to the Chantry after the murder of his family, and he was the last of his line, but he was not so far gone that the thought of taking a wife came easily. Still, she was kind and beautiful and she loved children. It would not hurt to talk to her.

He hadn't realized what a difficult task he'd set for himself. The children surrounded her constantly and seemed to think that keeping him away from Lady Hawke was some kind of game. Whenever he managed to get close to her, she seemed to slip away. She was there and gone on a whisper. Finally, when he had grown weary of chasing her, he decided the more logical solution would be to sit in on one of her lessons. She did not look pleased to see him there, thoroughly ignoring him as she observed the children practice their letters.

"You devotion to the Chantry is inspiring." Sebastian murmured, as Hawke swept past him. "The Maker smiles upon you."

She pinned him with an icy green stare. "I am here for the orphans, not the Chantry. The Maker has no love for me, Your Grace."

Sebastian had never been so insulted by someone using his title before. She had kept a civil tone with him, but he had been hoping they could become friends, at least. She should call him Sebastian. He knew he had gotten off to a bad start, forcing his attention on her. Still, her remark was so outrageous that he couldn't let it pass.

"The Maker loves all of his children." Not the most persuasive argument, and trite to boot, but it was all Sebastian had. She had caught him off guard.

Hawke scoffed. "Not mages."

"Mages are a danger to themselves and others." Sebastian said, not understanding the point she had made.

"I am sorry you feel that way, Your Grace. Lessons are over for today, children. We will resume the day after tomorrow." She spun on her heel and stormed off.

Sebastian had been surprised at the number of children who groaned their disappointment. When he was a boy he could hardly wait for his lessons to be finished so he could go and play in the stables. Of course, these children didn't have stables to play in. In fact, they didn't have anything to look forward to but Lady Hawke's visits. She really was amazing…And built to please a man. Sebastian's face heated. He had thought himself past such thoughts. He wondered if the Maker had sent her as a sign or a test. Most likely a test. The Maker seldom encouraged anyone to follow their desires.

It was several days before Sebastian realized what a fool he'd been. Of course she was a mage. His first impulse was to go straight to the Templars; mages could not be trusted with freedom. The words were almost out of his mouth before he thought of all the good she had done.

The orphans who lived at the Chantry had come with haunted eyes and hollow cheeks. Then Lady Hawke arrived one morning, surveying the Chantry with eyes that seemed not to miss a thing. Without a word to anyone, she'd approached one of the older boys who'd lost his parents to fever when they fled Ferelden. Roderick, his name was. He was too skinny by half; Sebastian had seen him divide his meals among the other orphans, saving almost nothing for himself. Hawke clapped a hand on his shoulder and leaned down to whisper something in his ear. Sebastian never learned what she said, but when she straightened, Roderick had thrown back his shoulders and puffed out his chest and looked at Hawke as though she was Andraste incarnate. She took him firmly by the hand, and with the other eleven orphans housed at the Chantry, Lady Hawke stormed the kitchens.

There were sounds of scuffling, a few raised voices, and a loud crash before the cooks came hurrying out, muttering about a crazy woman with an army of ragamuffins. They complained endlessly about the mess they would surely have to clean, but there was no sting in the comments. In fact, they sounded pleased! Even Grand Cleric Elthina was looking toward the kitchen with curious eyes. Sebastian attempted to peek in, but Roderick looked at him sharply and slammed the door in his face. He laughed softly to himself and settled down to wait.

When the bell chimed the noon hour, Hawke opened the doors to the dining hall and invited everyone in to eat. The fare was simple, but Sebastian thought he had never eaten so well in his life. They were served crispy flatbread topped with tomatoes, onions, and peppers, followed by a thick, spicy stew served in hot bread bowls lightly glazed with honey, and finished with blackberry tarts with cream and drizzled with chocolate sauce - Maker only knew where she had found chocolate. But the best part to Sebastian was that every one of those children looked happy, healthy, and proud. In fact, everyone in the dining hall wore a smile. Lady Hawke was nowhere to be seen.

He didn't see her again until she came to tell him the Flint Company had been dissolved. He had heard rumors that someone had put an end to them, but he felt his heart skip several beats when he found out it was Hawke. That sweet girl had dismantled a band of assassins? He could hardly believe it. She had been kind to him, compassionate, but she had questioned him about his family with a directness that bordered on insulting. Someone had hired Flint Company she'd told him, and justice would not truly be served until they learned who was behind it.

Sebastian was ashamed for even thinking of turning her in. She was an outsider, but she had done more good for Kirkwall than any ten citizens he knew. He immediately redoubled his efforts to gain her friendship. It was a slow process, and he thought they were starting to get somewhere, but then she'd left without saying goodbye - without even telling him she was leaving! Did he mean nothing to her?

His internal rant was interrupted by a shout from Roderick. Hawke had returned. She dropped to her knees and opened her arms to welcome the flood of children. They closed in around her, eager to hear of her latest great adventure. They didn't seem to notice how small and sad she looked. To them, Lady Hawke was as big as the world, as immovable as a mountain. They took comfort in her presence, and it was clear that she loved them. She greeted each one of them by name, pressing a silver and a sweet into their hands. When she finally stood, Sebastian approached her.

"Hawke, you've returned. Where have you been? Why wouldn't you tell me you were leaving? I thought you were dead!" His nostrils flared in anger and he hadn't even realized he'd taken her arm in a bruising grip until a furious elf appeared between them, shoving Sebastian hard away from Hawke. The children looked at him with cold, disapproval, and Roderick was looking at the elf with hero-worship shining in his eyes.

"You will not lay hands on her again." The elf growled. He was tall for his kind, able to look Sebastian in the eye.

"Fenris," Hawke said quietly, and laid a hand on his arm. With a warning glare for the prince, the elf stalked away, giving them privacy, but keeping Hawke in sight. The children followed him, pelting him with a barrage of questions.

"Are you very strong?"

"Did you know that was a prince you pushed?"

"Are you Lady Hawke's knight?"

"Do you love her?"

"He doesn't love her, the prince loves her!"

"He can love her, too!"

"Yes, but she's going to _marry_ the prince. That's how the stories go. The beautiful girl always marries they handsome prince."

Fenris tried to tune the children out, but his heart lurched when one little girl had brought up marriage. Hawke wouldn't marry that prince, would she?

** oOo**

"Beefing up security, I see." Sebastian said, in a teasing voice. He wished he hadn't been so rough with her a moment ago. She was always so solemn; he tried to be light around her.

"He has inherited Carver's duty. If he seems overzealous - well, consider where we are."

"Then Carver is-? Oh, Hawke, I'm so sorry." He tried to put a comforting arm around her, but she quickly stepped out of reach. Sebastian frowned. He'd thought they were getting past this.

"Have you learned any more about who might have hired the Flint Company?"

"Are you sure you want to talk about that now? Are you alright?"

"I have been home for more than a week, now. I have grieved for Carver and I will think of him every day, but it's time to get back to work. I take it from your hesitation that there are new developments?"

Sebastian hesitantly told her that the Harriman's were behind the attack on his family. They had been friends for years, but Lady Harimann was always one to reach beyond her grasp.

"You are still in danger. You must confront her. There is little chance of this being resolved peacefully, but you have to salvage what you can."

"I agree, but I am the last of my line. I should not go alone and make myself a target."

"You will not be alone. If I am at your side that should give them reason to pause. My reputation should be worth that much, at least."

"Thank you, Hawke. I hate to burden you with my troubles, especially now, but I am grateful for your help in this."

"I fear we are walking down the same road. Your family, at least, will have justice."

"Your interest in my plight humbles me. You really are trying to make Kirkwall a better place, aren't you?"

"An honor to serve, Your Grace." Hawke said, executing a perfect curtsy. "Meet me in the square in an hour, and we will get to the bottom of this."

**oOo**

Fenris watched the exchange between Hawke and Sebastian with growing distaste. He had never cared for nobles; self-serving prigs who thought they owned everybody and everything, and this _prince_ was no exception. He was too familiar with her by half, and Fenris would have to be blind not to notice the way he was devouring Hawke with his eyes. _Another fool who doesn't know his place._ Fenris's inner voice growled.

Suddenly Hawke was frowning and her head was cocked to the side in a thoughtful way. He was asking her to do something dangerous. Fenris could feel the anger rising in his blood. This bloody prince hadn't known if she was dead or alive fifteen minutes ago, and he was asking her to risk her life for him again? He sat here in the Chantry with his pristine armor, seemingly unconcerned that Hawke had already bled for him and likely would again. He had never joined her in battle. Nobles liked to keep their hands clean.

Fenris felt his jaw drop when Hawke curtsied to the prince before turning away. She curtsied! He may be royalty, but he was no better than her, not by a long shot. He knew he was being overly critical, but he didn't like the idea of his little mage bending her neck to anyone.

**oOo**

"Don't tell me the choir boy has decided to become a choir man?" Varric laughed, when Hawke told him Sebastian would be accompanying them on this mission.

"Try to be nice, Varric. The Chantry is all he has." Hawke pitied Sebastian. He had lost everything, betrayed by close friends who'd never though farther than their own ambitions. His family had been murdered, and he survived because he had been forgotten in the Chantry for so long. The Starkhaven Raven. His brothers had given him the unofficial title in insult. He bore no resemblance to his family, with his dark complexion and almost black hair that shone red in the light. They were all fair-skinned with golden hair, and there were rumors that Sebastian was a bastard. It wasn't true, but people still whispered it behind his back. The Unnecessary Heir. Out of sight, out of mind.

Hawke imagined that being sent from his family as a child with no one to care what he wanted was not so different from mages being sent to the Circle. Hawke had never thought of herself as a lucky person, but she counted herself extremely fortunate to have had the close, loving family that she did. She had never known Sebastian's pain. She was losing her family one by one, but she knew beyond the shadow of doubt that they had loved her. There had never been a family hierarchy.

She spied Sebastian waiting for her in the square. He held himself with pride and confidence, but Hawke thought she had never seen anyone look so lonely. She worried that the Harimann estate held darker secrets than her friend was prepared for. When she got involved it was never as simple as Varric liked to make it sound, storming the castle on the name of a banished prince to bring justice to corrupt nobles. No, this was going to get messy.

**oOo**

The Hawke who'd met Sebastian in the square today was not the gentle, almost shy Hawke he knew. This Hawke was cold and businesslike. She barged into the Harimann estate as though she had every right to be there, and began checking rooms. She didn't even flinch when a rage demon appeared with a small army of shades. Sebastian reached out, too late to stop Hawke as she threw herself into the fray. That elf, Fenris, threw him a smile that was half commiserating, half triumphant, and he followed her into battle.

Sebastian had heard many rumors of Hawke's exploits, and he had heard the stories she told the children, but he never really believed it. She had always made Varric or Fenris out to be the hero. He saw the truth of it now. The rumors hadn't done her justice. Hawke had seriously downplayed her ability. She stood back-to-back with Fenris, surrounded by shades, and a lazy smile spread across her face. She slammed the butt of her staff down on the floor once and the resulting explosion engulfed them all. Sebastian could no longer see Hawke or Fenris thought the flames, but he could hear the elf's sword singing as he cut down any surviving shades. The spin of his sword whipped the fire out, and the smoke cleared to reveal Fenris holding Hawke tightly against him. The battle may as well not have existed for them. They stated into each other's eyes and Sebastian felt his stomach twist painfully at the connection he saw between them.

"Hey, choir boy! A little help?" Varric shouted, snapping the prince back to what he was supposed to be doing.

"Did you just see-?" Sebastian asked, firing into a group of shades.

Varric rolled his eyes. "Yes, they're very impressive." His rhyming triplet took out three more.

"Are they-?"

"Don't you have more pressing things on your mind right now?"

Sebastian was extremely embarrassed; he couldn't believe he'd been distracted so easily. He didn't think he'd taken the Grand Cleric seriously when she'd suggested he court her, but it hurt to think of Hawke with another man. Apparently, he was more serious than he'd been willing to believe.

The search of the house revealed more disturbing discoveries than demons and shades. The Harriman's had gone insane. Flora was drunkenly screaming at the walls, Willem was preparing to pour molten gold over an elven servant - a testament to her divine beauty, he said. Hawke's face paled when they found Ruxton Harimann in bondage with an elven girl who was loudly moaning her pleasure. Ruxton looked at Hawke hungrily and licked his lips as he pounded into the girl. When he held out an inviting hand, Fenris jerked Hawke from the room. Sebastian and Varric were quick to follow.

"I apologize, Hawke." Sebastian said, sincerely. "I did not mean to expose you to such things."

"You can hardly claim responsibility for this, and I very much doubt he can, either." Hawke said. "There's nowhere to go but onward." She retained her businesslike demeanor, but Hawke's face was still pale, her eyes drawn inward as she brought the search of the house to the cellar. Varric was watching her with speculative eyes, Fenris watched her with concern, and Sebastian realized he'd only known a small piece of her. Suddenly, knowing all of Hawke seemed to be a daunting challenge; like there was simply too much to know. He was looking forward to trying.

Sebastian couldn't wrap his mind around how the Harimann children had beaten them to the cellar, but he was beyond caring. They collapsed and gave way to a group of shades led by a desire demon. Sebastian was suddenly _very_ aware of how tight his armor was as his most hidden desired came rushing to the front of his mind.

_She is so beautiful, _he thought. He knew he was supposed to be doing something, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from Hawke. Maker, he wanted to touch her. Every nerve in his body screamed for him to take her into his arms and show her that he hadn't been born in the Chantry. He could almost feel her soft skin under his fingertips, almost taste her, as in his mind's eye, he claimed her lips and body, watching her writhe beneath him as he drove her ever closer to completion.

A future where they were together flashed before his eyes. They lived simply, in a small town like her Lothering. He was a farmer and she practiced her craft as a medicine woman. She looked up at him from grinding her herbs and smiled. They were expecting their second child any day now, and Sebastian was nearly bursting with pride. There was a loud bang, and their daughter Ivory, now four years old, bounded into the room. Sebastian swept her up in his arms, delighted once again at how Hawke's tilted green eyes stared back at him through her cherubic face. He frowned when he noticed for the first time her snow white hair and pointed ears. _This isn't right._

_The elf,_ a sinister voice whispered in his ear. _The elf is in the way._ Sebastian frowned and shook his head. His thoughts seemed slow and fuzzy. _It would be a simply matter to remove him. _The voice whispered. _In this chaos no one would blame you for a stray arrow. Accidents happen, after all. Then she would be free to be with you. What can he offer her that you cannot provide a thousand times over? _Sebastian felt his aim twitch toward Fenris. _Just a simple matter to-" _The whispers cut off abruptly as the desire demon met her death on the end of Hawke's staff. His bow clattered to the ground and he dropped to his knees, covering his face with his hands.

"Sebastian!" It was the first time she'd called him by his name. "Are you alright? Have you been hurt?" She was by his side in an instant, forcing him to look at her so she could check him for injuries. Sebastian recoiled. The demon was dead, but even still, all he could think about was pressing Hawke back and sinking himself deep inside her.

Fenris must have read as much in his face because he pulled Hawke away from him. "Best to give him some air." The elf murmured, with a furious glare for Sebastian.

The cellar of the Harimann estate revealed an winding maze of tunnels that ran beneath the streets of Hightown. Sebastian thought that this must be an ancient place, indeed. He'd never heard of anything like this existing below Kirkwall. He wondered how long the Harriman's had known of it. He wondered how long demons had been prowling theses halls.

They reached the end of the maze to find Lady Harimann on her knees before the powerful desire demon, Allure. She didn't even realize they were there until she had revealed her plan to put her daughter on the throne of Starkhaven. Sebastian felt sick. This is what he'd lost his family for?

The demon turned her eyes on him. _It is not so uncommon, _she whispered. _Everyone wants power. You and your…companion certainly do. I can help you…_

The visions came crashing back. He would lead an army into Starkhaven with Hawke at his side. They would be married and she would be his queen. He would allow Fenris to keep his life, and even give him a position as Hawke's bodyguard. He would stand just outside the door when Sebastian came to her at night. Hawke would be his and that damned elf would know it! The Harriman's would swing from the gallows, and everyone would know the cost of crossing the Starkhaven Raven.

Sebastian's breath was coming in shallow gasps. He did not want to believe this darkness lived inside him, yet he knew it for truth. He was only vaguely aware of Hawke snarling, "I will rise on steps made from your bones!" She threw herself at Allure, a thick spike of ice already shooting from the end of her staff. He heard Hawke's warning shout, but it was too late. Lady Harimann flung herself in front of the demon, shielding it with her body. Her sacrifice provided Allure the distraction she needed to pin Hawke and drive a bone spear through her shoulder and into the wall behind her. With the greatest threat in the room effectively fastened to a wall, Allure turned to the rest of them as though she had all the time in the world. She would swat these flies now. The mage, she would save for later.

She had made two fatal mistakes: She should not have underestimated Fenris, and she should never have taken her eyes off Hawke. Sebastian thought Fenris's enraged shout would pull the walls down around them. With his lyrium tattoos glowing brighter than daylight, the warrior charged forward, and a graceful swing of his sword removed Allure's arm fro her shoulder. Hawke, in the meantime, braced her feet against the wall and pushed herself off of the spear holding her captive.

"Holy shit." Varric whispered, next to Sebastian. Hawke had regained her feet and licked the blood from her lips with a savage smile.

"Tell me, demon," she said, "how do you help people whose only desire is to kill you?" Allure's eyes widened as little cracks appeared in her skin, spreading to cover her body. A white light seeped through the fissures, throwing shadows across the walls from a hundred different angles. "We are not your toys." Hawke growled, and with a flick of her wrist, Allure shattered into a thousand pieces. Only then did Hawke succumb to the pain of her injuries. She fell to her knees and raised a trembling hand to cover the spot on her shoulder where the spear had gone through. She dropped until she was crouching on all fours, shuddering as she healed herself.

Fenris gently helped her to her feet, keeping one arm wrapped tightly around her waist. Hawke leaned into him, seeming grateful for the support. Sebastian felt jealousy slash through him like a fiery sword. So, the elf was allowed to touch her. For a moment he could almost hear the desire demon whispering to him again. _It would be a simple matter to… _He shook the thought away. Maker, what was wrong with him?

Hawke studied Sebastian's grim demeanor as they made their way back to the Chantry. He had only spoken to thank her for her aid, and kept his own counsel after that. She gave him his silence for now, but she made a mental note to return and check on him. That's what people did to her, it seemed to work.

She returned to the Chantry later that evening, escorted by Fenris, to find Sebastian praying. She stood several paces away to preserve the privacy of his conversation with the Maker. When he finally noticed her, he turned his face away.

"I can still feel the desire demon's touch. I feel like I've bathed in filth that will never come off." He said, quietly.

"It is a disturbing thing to be touched by a demon." Hawke said. "You acted honorably, Sebastian. There is no reason to feel ashamed."

"You didn't feel what she stirred in me. I didn't know I had such darkness within me. I try to do the right thing, but the temptation…" He looked into Hawke's eyes and took her hand in his. "I could not be right to take back Starkhaven with such doubt in my heart."

"That is something you must decide for yourself, Your Grace. But you should keep in mind that people who don't desire power are the ones most suited to wield it. We all have out roles to play. Take some time to decide if you are a prince or a priest. You cannot be both. How do you see yourself?"

"That is exactly what I am trying to decide." He said, exasperated.

"Perhaps this will help." Sebastian's jaw dropped when Hawke placed the Starkhaven Longbow in his hands. He had never thought he'd hold his grandfather's bow again. His grandfather who had always made time for him, even if his own parents didn't; his grandfather who led him to embrace his life in the Chantry. If this wasn't a sign, then the Maker was certainly being misleading.

"Where did you get this?" He asked, his eyes filling with tears.

"Flint Company. I thought you might want it."

"Thank you, Hawke. For everything. This means more to me than I can say."

"Give yourself time, Sebastian. The right thing will come to you." Hawke swayed slightly, and Fenris appeared at her side, slipping a supporting arm around her.

"You push yourself too hard." He grumbled, leading her away. Sebastian wanted to stop them, to prolong his moment with Hawke just a little more, but her response to Fenris's criticism shriveled the words on his tongue.

"Can I stay with you tonight?" She asked softly, leaning against him. "I don't think I can stay awake any longer."

Sebastian found it unfair that she could break his heart and put it back together at the same time.


	13. Chapter 13

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for._

_Anders and Hawke have a heart-to-heart…_

_Bioware owns everything, of course._

**Haven't We Met Before?**

Anders could scarcely believe his eyes when Hawke strolled into his clinic one day and silently began mixing herbs for potions. She filled a basin with hot water and gathered a stack of clean towels, and when everything was arranged to her satisfaction, she looked to the patients crowding the waiting area.

"I can help someone." She said, and a young woman stood. A path cleared before her as she approached Hawke, coughing into a handkerchief red with blood. Hawke showed no signs of distaste, no hesitation as she placed one hand on the girl's chest and healed her. She gave her water to rinse out her mouth and pressed a small bottle of honey into her hand, instructing her to add it to hot tea to soothe a sore throat.

Anders watched her from the corner of his eye, pleased with what he saw. Hawke gave each patient her undivided attention, asking their names, inquiring if they had children, instructing them where they can go to receive further aid. She handed out medicine when she was able, and used magic when it was necessary. Magic was necessary quite often, it turned out. It was a shock to be reminded how powerful she was. She never seemed to need lyrium. Anders was on his third bottle and there were many more people to tend.

They worked side by side, healing the great unwashed of Kirkwall, never speaking a word to each other. Anders felt the corners of his mouth twitching, and before long he was smiling broadly. He was comfortable in their silence; it felt natural to work with her. With Hawke's help, there was no need to send anyone away. Anders would not have been able to heal half as many people alone. He was exhausted, but she seemed never to tire.

"You're much stronger than me." He observed, only a little jealous - he'd made a pact with Justice, after all. He'd done it for friendship, but it would be a lie if he said he hadn't noticed how much the spirit had augmented his power. He still didn't match Hawke.

"Everyone is different." She said, dismissively.

"Yes, but you're much stronger than your father was, as well. You're definitely stronger than the First Enchanter in Ferelden."

"Is this a pissing contest?" Her eyes sparkled, and there was a definite note of amusement in her voice.

"It's just surprising that someone with your power has escaped the notice of the Templars. Do you offer lessons?"

"I guess I'm just lucky." The words were like a knife in her chest. She tried to sound happy, but she knew she'd failed. She could feel the light leaving her eyes, and she couldn't seem to pull it back.

"I don't believe you." His voice was hard, but compassion was glittering in his dark chocolate eyes. He'd been meaning to have this out with her since that night at the Hanged Man.

"What are you talking about?"

Anders was not surprised at how fast her guard went up. Many apostates did not like to talk about their experience with Templars. "You don't need to hide it from me, sweetheart. You went through the Harrowing, didn't you?"

"You know I've never been to the Circle, Anders."

"And I've never known you to lie, but you didn't really answer my question, did you?"

"Does it matter? Doesn't every mage go through the Harrowing?"

"It matters. It matters because in the Circle you get some warning that what is about to happen is going to be horrible. Malcolm didn't agree with Harrowing. He would never put his daughter through that."

_There was plenty of warning that it would be horrible_. "Is there a point to this line of questioning?" Hawke demanded, keeping her thoughts to herself. "Do you want to hear about my experience, or do you want to know how I know your friend? Didn't he tell you everything?"

"So you do recognize him. No, Hawke, the only thing Justice has told me about you is that you are strongly opposed to abominations. He seems to think the rest is none of my business. _**You care for that girl far too strongly already. **_Justice grumbled.

"I am grateful to him for that, as well as for the help he offered, even if I did not take it."

"I am under the impression that this was a particularly…harrowing Harrowing." He pressed. His eyes searched her face. She was so mysterious to him. He burned to know her, to gain some insight into her personality.

"My test was my test. The important thing is that I succeeded."

"Who did it?" His voice was grim, his lips compressed to a thin bloodless line. "Fucking Templars are no better than rabid dogs. Did they mark you?"

Hawke schooled her face to stillness. "Mark me?"

Anders rolled his sleeve back to reveal a scar winding around his forearm. It was identical to the one that seemed to embrace her. "Some Templars like to mark their work." He spat. "Magebane. I'll always carry this scar."

Hawke pushed up the sleeves of her robe. "No, I don't have anything like that."

Anders studied her for a moment, looking for deeper meaning in her words. She was holding something back. "How did you get away? I can't believe they would let you go."

"I woke up sooner than they expected." She gave him a wicked grin. "They are dead now."

"How old were you?"

"Seventeen."

"So young? Were you born hard, or did you grow into it?" He asked, his fists clenching in the folds of his robes. He hated these short answers, it made it extremely difficult to carry on a conversation with her.

"Yes." She said.

Anders squeezed his eyes shut and pinched the bridge of his nose. "You are infuriating to talk to sometimes."

"Do you mind if I smoke?" Hawke desperately wanted to change the subject. She wasn't ready to talk about it, but she wasn't comfortable lying to Anders, either.

So, he had gone under Ser Alrik's blade as well. She had heard rumors of his presence in Kirkwall - he was one of Meredith's favorites, but Hawke had yet to find him. She didn't need help from demons to get her revenge, and Anders had given her one more reason to kill the Templar. She took a drag from her pipe, holding the smoke in for a long minute before exhaling. "Perhaps I have judged you too harshly, Anders. You do a lot of good here."

"Perhaps you have not judged me harshly enough. It is my understanding that I should feel honored to be alive in your presence."

"I don't think I'm as fearsome as all that." She protested.

"Not at first glance, no. It's only when one gets to know you that you become truly terrifying."

"How unfortunate for my enemies. Perhaps that's why I get in so much trouble."

"It's a fair bet. You're small and delicate and no one would ever suspect you're a powerful battle mage."

"Mmm. You sound like my mother." Hawke hit her pipe and stared straight ahead, not really looking at anything. "I'm supposed to be dress shopping right now. Apparently, there's some gala we've been invited to, and Mother says it's my duty to attend."

That's right. Hawke had retaken her family estate. She was all the rage among the elite of Hightown, and it was no wonder, with her doll's face and perfectly curved body. None of them knew what she really was, of course. They only cared if she was rich and fashionable, and she certainly was both of those things.

"I suppose it would be rude to ignore their invitations, but I don't think I fit in well with them. They always stare at me."

"They stare because you are beautiful." He covered her hand with his and sighed when she pulled away. He ran a frustrated hand through his shaggy blonde hair. "Maker, Hawke, is my touch so offensive to you?"

Hawke looked at him apologetically. "It's not that. It's not personal; I just don't like to be touched."

"What about that elf? It seems like he can barely keep his hands off you and you are not bothered…not that it's any of my business, of course."

"Fenris is my shield, my protector. There are times when physical contact is necessary."

Anders scoffed. She used words to distance her relationship to the warrior, but the delicate blush staining her cheeks pointed to the truth. He was trying very hard not to be jealous, but he could not keep the bitterness from his voice. "I'll bet he just loves that."

Hawke's blush deepened and she was suddenly very interested in her pipe. "It's not like that with Fenris." She said. "Besides, don't you see what's going on? All these parties and my mother talking about duty - she is planning to find me a husband."

"You can't get married!" He blurted, incredulously. He could not see Hawke as any man's wife. _Well, maybe-_ he crushed the thought down before it could fully form.

"I know!" She jumped to her feet and began pacing Anders' clinic in agitation. "I don't know what's she's thinking! I won't always be able to hide what I am, and then what happens? What happens if there is a child?" She looked at her pipe as though she'd forgotten she had it. She hit it and looked at Anders helplessly. "What am I going to do?"

Her arms were flailing. If the situation hadn't been so serious, Anders would have laughed. She was captivating when she lost her composure. He liked the real Hawke. He wondered if Fenris had the right idea by smoking with her - if that was the thing that made her comfortable around him.

"Does the elf know?" Anders had to ask. He would love to be a fly on the wall when Fenris heard the news.

Hawke flopped down next to him once again. She slouched, letting her arms dangle between her knees and stared at the floor. The blush was back. "I just figured it out myself. I thought coming here to work would take my mind off it. You're the first person I've told."

Anders smiled broadly and nudged her with his shoulder. "I'll tell him if you want."

"Fenris and I are just friends. There's no reason why it should matter to him."

Her blush faded; she really believed that! Anders rolled his eyes. "I very much doubt he sees it that way."

"What do you mean?"

He was going to throttle her. How could she see his feelings so clearly but remain clueless about Fenris? The warrior wore his heart on his sleeve for all to see. Varric and Isabella had opened a betting pool at the Hanged Man. The elf had many supporters. "You haven't noticed the way he gives the stink eye to any man who looks at you?"

"He is watching for potential threats. He is protecting me."

"From me?"

"Well, he just doesn't like you." Hawke exhaled a cloud of smoke so thick it almost completely obscured her features. Anders was just able to make out a small, secret grin.

"He doesn't show such hostility to women…except maybe Merrill."

"Many men make that mistake. Fenris has taken on a great responsibility on my behalf. He does not just protect me from others, he protects others from me. We help each other, and we have become friends, but I am a mage, and that is what he sees."

Anders disagreed, but he didn't press the issue. If Hawke couldn't see the depth pf Fenris's feelings, he wouldn't be the one to point it out to her. The last thing he wanted was to encourage their relationship. He noticed how she had avoided revealing her feelings for the elf. Anders was learning to accept that they could only be friends, and he wanted her to be happy, but he didn't believe Fenris could provide that for her.

"I didn't come here just to talk about getting married." Hawke said.

"Checking up on me?" Anders asked, with a smile.

"You could call it that. I was wondering how you've been doing since Meredith's increased Templar patrols. Have they given you any trouble with their raids?"

"Not so far, but there have been a few close calls. This place isn't exactly a secret. I appreciate your help, Hawke, but you won't always be able to use your money and position to protect me. It's death for anyone caught helping an apostate. The thought of them hurting you - I don't care what it takes. I would drown us in blood to keep you safe."

"I am an apostate too, Anders. We may not always agree, but this is my battle as much as it is yours. You're not safe in this clinic. If Templars do decide to raid, you have no way to escape."

"There are ways." He said. His skin was beginning to crack, allowing Justice to shine through.

"Then they will kill you, not capture you. I have a slightly less fatal plan." She pulled a thin silver chain from around her neck and handed it to him. There was a key attached to it. Anders looked at her, not comprehending. "Come with me." She led him to the collapsed doorway just outside his clinic. "This is the entrance to my cellar. I used it once to clear the slavers out."

"How do you open it? People have been clawing at it for years, and no one has found a way through."

"There is a trick to it, of course." She stood in front of Anders and looked to make sure no one was watching. He had to suppress a shiver when she took his hand in hers and guided it to a board that was nailed in more tightly than the others. He had never been this close to her before; he ached to warp his other arm around her waist, to close the distance between the, but he knew if he did she would not trust him to be near her again. She smelled good, like a cool breeze. He was all nerves as she guided his index finger to a rough knot on the other side of the board.

"You need lightning here. It has to be this spot." She said, softly. "Just a spark. Not enough to let people see you. Do it now."

Anders smiled with delight when his spark caused the broken door to swing open, revealing a dark, narrow passage leading to another door. Hawke closed the broken door again before he could enter. She made him open the first door over and over until she was satisfied that he would be able to find the knot in an emergency. Only then did she lead him down the hallway and permit him to use his key.

This led to another hallway. The walls looked old and worn, but the space smelled of fresh sawdust. Hawke stopped at the third wooded panel and took Anders' hand again, placing it on the wall so his index and middle finger covered two more knots that looked like eyes, observing anyone who came to this place.

"You need spirit here. Three short bursts, keep them small. You can't be too careful."

Anders did as he was instructed, patiently repeating the process as many times as Hawke felt was necessary before sliding the panel aside to reveal a very narrow passageway. They were in the walls! "Has this always been here?" He asked, looking around in wonder. The passageway turned to the right. A dead end.

"The basement has, yes. I've been doing some…remodeling. Only magic can get you through these passages. I've placed seals on the doors. If you shut them tightly behind you, the Templars cannot follow you. Only I, and now you, know the secrets of this place, so there is no need to fear anyone entering by stealth." Hawke said, covering his hands with hers and pressing them flat against the wall. Anders was afraid she would hear his heart hammering in his chest. "There are no markers here. You just have to know. Fire in your right hand, ice in your left. If you do it backwards, if you use any other element, the spell will rebound and you'll lose both hands. This is for your protection, so please _do not_ forget. Fire in your right hand, ice in your left, at the same time."

Anders stared down at her in amazement. She had _made_ all of this? Questions spun through his mind faster than he could think to ask them. Instead, he remained silent and cast the spells as she commanded. She made him practice at this door much longer than the other ones. This door swung open to reveal a very large room. He wondered if his state of shock was going to become a permanent condition.

She had built him a secret room in her house! It had a fireplace with two large, comfortable looking chairs arranged in front of it. There were shelves lining one wall that were filled with books and scrolls, jars of herbs and elements, potions, empty bottles and beakers, nearly everything a mage could want. His eyes were drawn to a mahogany desk with shelves that held fresh paper and rolls of parchment, ink bottles and fresh quills. He sat carefully in the chocolate leather chair and stared at Hawke with wide eyes.

"You did this for me?" He asked, uncertainly.

"If you want it. I know it's a basement, but it's safe, and I've tried to make it homey. You'd have everything you need here, and-" she sounded nervous.

"Hawke," Anders interrupted, crossing the room to stand in front of her. "I'm going to hug you now, and you are going to hug me back. Not because I have feelings for you, but because you are a true friend and I am thankful to know you. Okay?" He'd never seen anything sweeter than Hawke's smile as she nodded and stepped into his embrace. His jaw dropped when she pressed her cheek against his chest and wrapped her arms tightly around his waist. _Is this really happening?_ He asked himself.

"I know I give you a hard time sometimes." She said. "I know we bicker a lot and we look at things differently, but I am on your side, Anders. I have come to love you as a brother; I will not allow the Templars to have you."

_She loves me as a brother. Yeah, this is real. _Still, he'd though her words would hurt more. Instead, his heart swelled with joy. He wouldn't push her any more. It was enough that he had become important to her. It would have to be.

"I have one more thing to show you." She led him over to a large bed with a thick feather mattress, but it was the nightstand that held her attention. She climbed atop it and stood so she faced the hidden door they had entered from. She raised her arms so that her palms were pressed flat against the ceiling. "This is like the last door. No markers, spirit with your right hand, lightning with your left. If you use another spell or get this backwards, it is likely you will die. Spirit with your right hand, lightning with your left, at the same time."

She hopped down off the table to make room for Anders to climb up. He pressed his hands to the ceiling exactly where Hawke's had been and she nodded her approval. When he did as she instructed, a large tile appeared that he could lift and push out of the way. Instead of doing this, however, he let the tile fall back into place so it looked like a normal ceiling again. He was impressed by her ingenuity.

How did it even occur to you to build something like this?" He asked, trying the spell again.

"Back in Lothering there was this smuggler, Old Barlin. He was a cheap son of a bitch. He wanted me to mix poison for him, but he didn't want to pay me, so I worked for knowledge. Barlin was clever. He'd been raided a few times, but no one ever found anything. That's because he had secret compartments everywhere that you couldn't see. There was always a trick, a secret latch or button that you had to press to open it. I made his poisons, and he taught me to make secret spaces."

Anders arched an eyebrow at her. "This is more than a hidden drawer, Hawke."

Hawke looked around, pleased. "Well, I expanded the design, I suppose, but the principle is the same. Using magic as a switch was my little secret, though - one I never shared with anyone before, so guard it well."

Anders nodded. _Spirit with my right hand, lightning with my left. _He cast the spell a final time and slid the tile out of the way. He lifted himself through the hole he'd made in the ceiling to find himself in Hawke's pantry. He turned to give her a hand up, but found that she had already lifted herself through. She nudged the tile back into place with her foot and it became an ordinary piece of the floor again.

"This is your way out. No one should be able to get to your room, but if they do, come into the house."

"And bring the danger to you." He said, angrily. How could she think he would do such a thing?

"We can handle danger. If you have to run this far, you will need aid."

"You are the strangest, most amazing person I have ever met, Selene Hawke. No one has ever done anything like this for me."

"I'll be coming by the clinic tomorrow to see how well you remember." She warned him.

"I'll be looking forward to it." The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled.

Anders left the way they'd come, and Hawke watched him with a heavy heart. She hoped the room made up for the lie. It must have been difficult for him to show her that scar. _If he found out the truth, would he feel betrayed? Probably._


	14. Chapter 14

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for._

_**SMUT WITHIN, **__you have been warned. Bioware owns all characters, etc._

***sigh***

Selene could feel the focus in the room shift to her as soon as she entered. She hated the dress her mother had commissioned for her. It was cream silk the same color as her skin, laced tightly in the back, with thin straps and a draped neckline. It was thin enough that she worried people would be able to see the serpentine scar winding its way around her body. It clung to her in a way that made people look, a dramatic slit in the front revealed one of her long legs, drawing attention to the curve of her hips and her creamy thigh. She could almost hide it if she stood still, but the way the silk pooled at her feet formed a small train that pulled the dress open if she walked anywhere. She wasn't wearing shoes, which she was grateful for, but it felt strange. Instead, she wore anklets attached to a toe ring with a delicate silver chain. The only other ornaments she wore were the black and white sticks holding her hair in a bun - the only piece of the ensemble she had chosen. Each stick had a small silver pendant dangling from it, catching the light and making it dance in her auburn hair.

She didn't see her mother anywhere. She froze, not knowing what to do. Everyone was watching her. Selene sighed with relief when Sebastian stepped out of the crowd, taking her hand and bowing formally. She blushed when she felt his eyes caress her.

"Hawke, you look-"

"Finish that sentence, and I'll cut your tongue out and feed it to everyone here." She threatened him, casually. He raised his eyebrows, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. "I'm sorry, Sebastian. I'm just not made for these things."

"I am inclined to disagree." The prince said, offering her a fluted glass of champagne. "You play these nobles well. You are beautiful and mysterious and elusive. That you manage it all by accident is nothing short of miraculous."

"Have you seen my mother?" She asked, wearily.

"She was in deep conversation with the Viscount. I expect you won't be seeing much of her this evening."

"Maker willing." Leandra had barely left Hawke's side at the last party, making introductions to leering nobles. Selene was glad her mother was having a good time, but this was a part of nobility that she had not considered. Had she known it would be like this, she might not have been so quick to leave Lowtown.

"Come now, Hawke, is it really so terrible? I'm here…Unless you'd like me to leave?" He started to turn away, a mischievous smile on his face.

"No!" She grabbed his arm. "Don't leave me with these people."

"I am one of 'these people,' Selene, and now, so are you."

"Yes, but you're my friend. You don't want anything from me."

"Don't I?" Sebastian purred seductively, then laughed at Hawke's horrified expression. "I meant a dance, Hawke. I want you to dance with me."

"Oh. Ummm….I don't dance." Selene said, wringing her hands nervously.

"You can't refuse, Selene. I'm royalty."

"There is a law saying I can't refuse you a dance?" Her voice was incredulous.

"Not a law per se, but it is considered taboo. Everyone is watching; what will they think if you don't dance with your friend, the prince?" He teased, as he swept her out onto the dance floor. He spun her into his arms, holding one of her hands in his and rusting his other hand at the small of her back. He knew she was uncomfortable, but he couldn't help enjoying the way people watched them and whispered. He had decided to return to the brotherhood, but it was nice to forget it for an evening. Tonight he was just a man dancing with a beautiful woman, and he was happy.

He looked down at Hawke and chuckled softly at how hard she was concentrating on their feet. Sebastian tilted her chin up with a knuckle. "Look at me, Hawke, your body will follow. You're very graceful."

"Famous last words." Hawke snorted, but she smiled and kept her eyes on his face. She fell into step with him easily, and he twirled her effortlessly around the dance floor. He dress flew out behind her, revealing even more of her long, slender legs. Sebastian eyed her appreciatively. He didn't know what had possessed Leandra to dress her daughter in such a scandalous garment, but he was very glad that she did.

The dress was thin enough that his eyes strained for a hint to what lay underneath. Nothing was revealed, of course, and he felt like a cad for thinking of it. The shade of the silk matched her skin to perfection, making her almost appear to be naked. Sebastian frowned that the jealous eyes following them around the room. This was likely the only dance he would get with her tonight.

**oOo**

Leandra watched her daughter with a pleased smile. She was dancing with the Prince of Starkhaven. He had not even hesitated to seek her out. They made a stunning match; Sebastian wrote the book on tall, dark, and handsome, and Selene looked like a porcelain doll in his arms.

The cream silk had been the perfect choice for her voluptuous daughter. Leandra frowned; she wished Selene would enjoy herself more. She had been an unusually serious child even before the kidnapping. Afterward, she was inscrutable. Leandra had gone years without seeing Selene laugh or smile. That had slowly begun to change since they arrived in Kirkwall, but she still hated these parties.

She would not usually force her daughter into something like this, she wanted Selene to marry for love. However, after losing Bethany and Carver, she desperately wanted to secure a future for her only living child. It looked as though there would be no shortage of suitors. Viscount Dumar was speaking to her about a potential match between his son Seamus and Selene. Apparently, the boy was quite taken with her since she'd rescued him from the Winters on the Wounded Coast. _A prince and a viscount's son…_Leandra had never hoped to reach so high.

**oOo**

"May I call you Selene?" Seamus asked courteously, trying to catch her eyes.

"Of course." She murmured. She hardly knew how she came to be dancing with the viscount's son. Her song with Sebastian had ended, and he was suddenly passing her to Seamus and they were off together before she could protest.

"I see you at the Keep quite often. You are a good influence, I think." He smiled at her warmly, and carefully kept his eyes on her face. Hawke gave a small smile in return. He was trying very hard to be a gentleman.

"It is an honor to think I might be any influence at all, my lord." She said.

"Please, you must call me Seamus. I'd like to think we're well past such formalities."

Seamus knew she was a mage. She had not been able to hide it when the Winters attacked. It was a secret he had kept well for her, though. The stories he told of her daring rescue contained not a whisper of magic. In fact, even though Meredith had increased Templar patrols, Hawke never felt their heat. She had thought that was Aveline's doing, but looking at the boy smiling down at her, she realized she'd been wrong.

"Of course, Seamus, forgive me. I am new to nobility."

"I doubt that very much. I know few people who are even half as noble as you are. What you are new to is attention, although I find that difficult to believe as well."

"There are more people in this room now than there were in all of Lothering. It was a quiet life, for a time. Don't you ever tire of these parties?"

"They're not so bad when you have good company.' He said. "What about you? Wouldn't you like to live that quiet life again? You're always in so much danger."

"No more than you, Seamus. You must be giving your father fits with your affection for disreputable characters like mages and the Qunari.'

"I do care for you, Selene." Seamus said, suddenly serious. "You are honorable and you fight for what you believe in. You're exactly what Kirkwall needs; you're exactly what I need. May I have permission to call on you sometime?"

"Seamus, the Viscount would speak with you presently." Seneschal Bran interrupted, before Hawke could answer. "Have no fear. I will occupy mistress Hawke until you return." He said, when Seamus hesitated.

"Forgive me, Selene, I must attend my father, but I look forward to speaking more with you later." He bowed low over her hand, and then disappeared into the crowd, leaving her alone with the seneschal, who handed her a glass of champagne.

"Well, you certainly made an…impression." He said, openly eyeing her full breasts. He smirked when she downed the drink in one swallow. "Dance?" He had her out on the floor before she could protest.

"Why not?" Selene's eyes blazed and she made no effort to hide the sneer in her voice. He was challenging her.

"There are many who would forget what you are because you are beautiful, but not I. Don't you think you're reaching beyond your grasp?" His breath was hot against her ear, and she could feel him, hot and hard, pressed against her belly. "You are only a refugee."

"Marriage is my mother's dream, not mine." Selene growled, struggling to push him away. She may as well have been pushing a brick wall for all the effect she had; Seneschal Bran was deceptively strong.

"That's good to hear." He hummed. "You are not meant to be any man's wife. You would be a divine mistress, and the Blooming Rose would pay you whatever you want, but," one hand slid down her back and pressed her hard against him, the other hand traced her shoulder, easing one strap of her dress down her arm, dropping her top dangerously low. He smiled. "I don't think anyone would put a ring on you, least of all the viscount's son."

If she mind blasted him now, she'd have to kill everyone in the room to make her escape. Outwardly, she appeared clam, but panic was rising fast. No one seemed to notice what was happening. Her mind raced for a way out of this. She licked her lips and let her eyelids droop slightly. "It's true; any man who desired my hand would be foolish indeed. A time may come when I do decide to take a lover, so let me promise you this, Bran," she leaned up on her tiptoes so their lips were almost touching. "It will never, ever be you."

His fingers bit into the soft flesh of her harm, bruising her. "Whore." He growled. He stepped back, but he did not let her go. Instead, he turned toward a dark balcony, dragging her along with him.

_Do it._ She thought, grimly. _Take me somewhere nice and quiet, safe from prying eyes. Careful now, Bran. Don't let anyone see you._

"Surely you don't intend to keep the lady all to yourself, Seneschal." It took Hawke a moment to recognized Knight-Captain Cullen. He was absent his armor, but that did nothing to diminish his size. The man was a giant. His voice was cheerful, but there was a dangerous edge to it.

Bran glared at the Knight Captain murderously. "Have your fun, Cullen. I'm sure I'll be seeing much more of her later." He snarled, shoving Selene into the Templar's arms.

"You should be more careful." He said, tilting her face to meet her eyes. "The Seneschal is a lecher, but your plans were clear. It would not go well for you if you killed him, Mistress Hawke."

"I thank you for your intervention, Knight Captain." She said, formally. She turned to leave, but he stopped her with a hand on her arm. Hawke stiffened. This was it. He was taking her to the Circle.

"Did he give you anything to drink? Wine or champagne?" He asked, concern written plain across his face.

"Champagne, why?"

"He has been watching you with hot eyes all night; it's very likely he slipped you something unpleasant. You should go home, Mistress Hawke. The Seneschal's passions run dark. If you have someone you trust who will watch over you, I strongly suggest you seek them out."

"How much danger am I in?"

"You won't die. He's not a murderer, just a pervert."

_And a rapist. _Hawke added, mentally. "Thank you, Cullen. More than I say." She said, making her way to the exit.

"We're not all bad." He said, falling into step beside her.

"Mages and Templars feel the same way about each other." She said, sympathetically. "I know you are a good man, Cullen, but the bad ones are bad enough." She closed the door, cutting off his reply.

By the Time she reached Fenris's mansion, she was staggering.

**oOo**

Fenris was drunk. He knew Hawke had yet another party to go to, so he'd made plans to play diamondback with Varric at the Hanged Man. He was there less than fifteen minutes before the abomination walked through the door and opened a betting pool over how many proposals of marriage Hawke would receive tonight, and from whom. Many placed money on the prince.

No one seemed to notice that Fenris's scope of reality had been horribly twisted. He stood without a word to anyone and left the tavern. He didn't remember how he got home; he only knew he was standing in front of a cold fireplace, holding a half-empty bottle of wine.

_Hawke is getting married. _The words sounded wrong in his mind. It couldn't be true. She would have told him, wouldn't she? _Why should she? _A cruel voice inside him asked. _What are you to her but a bodyguard? _With a despairing shout, Fenris smashed the wine bottle in the fireplace. She could not! She was _his_ little mage, she couldn't marry some sniveling noble. He wanted nothing more than to march up to the Viscount's Keep and show her - show all of them - the she only really came to life when she was with him. He would make her see that they belong together. He heaved a shuddering sigh. He thought she'd known it already. He'd never trusted anybody the way he trusted Hawke. He'd known he wanted to stay beside her from the first. They had breathed life into each other; he knew her better than anyone. How could she not see that?

His furious pacing was interrupted by someone pounding at the door. Fenris grabbed his sword. Who would be visiting at this hour? The sight of Hawke leaning in the doorway took the wind out of his sails like a punch in the stomach. She was gorgeous in a dress that was barely there and her hair swept up on a bun to show off her lovely neck, but for once it was not her beauty that held his attention. There was an angry purple bruise on her arm, her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes were fevered. He pulled her inside, slamming the door behind her.

"Are you alright? What happened to you?" He demanded, roughly.

"I was gonna kill him, but I wasn't allowed to." Hawke said thickly, seeming very occupied with his buttons.

"Who? Who were you going to kill?" Rage was boiling dangerously close to the surface. Someone had attacked her tonight. Fenris decided he would rip the bastard's heart out without the aid of his tattoos. He was filled with self-loathing. He hadn't been there to protect her.

"I'm not a whore." she said, abruptly pushing herself away from him. She had undone all of he buttons on his shirt.

Fenris followed her closely as she staggered up the stairs to sit in her usual spot before the fireplace. He sat next to her, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Selene, are you alright? Did someone hurt you tonight?" He asked, struggling to keep his voice calm.

"He said I was a whore, but I'm not." She looked at him with eyes pleading for understanding. "I swear I've never-"

"I will kill him." He vowed, softly.

"You can't kill the Seneschal, Fenris." Hawke said, with a giggle. "That's what the Knight-Captain told me…except he called me Hawke, not your name."

"Seneschal Bran tried to rape you at the Viscount's party?" He bellowed, bounding to his feet to tower over her.

Hawke looked up at him, tears filling her eyes. "He tried to pull me into the dark. The Knight Captain stopped him. I would have killed him. He drugged my champagne."

"He drugged you? What did he give you?" His anger was fast turning to panic. She'd been poisoned! "Tell me what you need me to do."

"It's an aphrodisiac. I'd heal myself, but I can't seem to make my magic work." She gave him a silly smile and the blue glow flickered and died on her fingertips. "It won't kill me, the Templar said."

"And you believed him?"

"He could've let the Seneschal do as he wished with me, but he didn't."

Fenris pulled her to her feet with shaking hands and wrapped his arms tightly around her. "I will be escorting you to these events from now on. You should not have to rely on a Templar for protection." He said. Hawke nodded against his chest. She slipped one of her arms under his shirt, absently running her fingers up and down his back in a soothing manner.

"You are my protector, Fenris. I won't have anyone else. Not Anders or Sebastian or Seamus, only you." Hawke traced little patterns on his bare chest with her fingertips.

Fenris cupped the back of her neck, his thumb gently caressing the line of her jaw. "Why didn't you tell me you were getting married?" He asked.

The sadness in his voice thrilled her and tore at her heart at the same time. "I can't get married, Fenris, I'm a mage. This is a fantasy of my mother's making and I am entertaining her for now. I have no intention of accepting any proposals. If she wants me to marry, she'll have to force me to it."

"Is she responsible for this ridiculous dress?" He growled, but there was no bite in it.

"You don't like it? I didn't either, at first, but it's starting to grow on me." She stepped away from him and smoothed the dress over her hips. She felt warm, and the silk was cool and soft against her skin. She could feel Fenris's eyes roaming possessively over her body. Her nipples tightened under his smoldering gaze, straining against silk that suddenly felt abrasive.

A dull ache began to throb between her legs as she drank in the sight of him. She wondered if he knew how much she liked him in black. His shirt hung open, and she could see his tattoos curling around his well-muscled chest and spiraling down rippled abs to disappear beneath the waistband of his pants. His snowy white hair contrasted brilliantly against his tanned skin and burning gaze. He was so beautiful to her, her lyrium wolf. She wondered despairingly if it was her fault he hadn't found love. She occupied so much of his time.

"It was certainly designed to make a man look." Fenris said, dryly. She didn't seem to be aware of the way she was running her hands over her body, he fingers danced up her arm to play on the curve of her shoulder. She hugged herself with her other arm, her hand caressed the curve of her hip. The pose pushed her breasts together in a way that made him wonder how she managed to stay in her dress. Her pupils were dilated and she wasn't quite acting like herself, but he was amazed at how well she kept her composure. She was trying to keep her safe distance. She had pushed him away twice.

Selene looked at him with sad eyes. "Maybe I should get married." She said. "Then you would be free."

Fenris was suddenly looming over her, his lyrium tattoos burning brightly. He wanted to shake her, but he kept his hands clenched in fists at his sides. "Did I not choose this?" He demanded, furiously. "You say you took my freedom from me? Are you like Danarius, then? Am I your pet?"

"Don't you ever feel that way?" She snapped back. "Aren't you tired of babysitting the mage? Aren't you tired of me and my sleep days and my stupid nightmares?"

"I chose to be with you, Hawke! I thought you were choosing to be with me too, but instead, I hear you're going to parties and your mother is planning to marry you off. Then you show up on my door, drugged and practically naked!"

Hawke shoved him hard. She was the aggressor now. "You know I didn't choose this!" Shove. "I'm just making my mother happy!" Shove. "Going through the motions!" Shove. "Every fucking day!" Shove. "I don't want this!"

Fenris hit the wall. He clamped his easily around her wrists and forced her arms to her sides. "What do you want, Hawke?" He asked, quietly. She leaned into him, resting her forehead against his chest, and he noticed the pendants dangling from her hair sticks. One was a crescent moon; the other was a howling wolf. It turned in the light, drawing his attention to the fine lines engraved in the silver. His lyrium tattoos. Fenris knew she couldn't have found something like that. She'd had it made.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Fenris. I guess I was hoping it would go away."

"I'm told I can be very intimidating." He said, hugging her tightly. "Maybe I can do something about that."

Hawke smiled and hugged him back, sliding her hands inside his shirt to stroke his broad, muscular shoulders. Her skin was tingling all over her body, and he was warm and hard and smooth. She couldn't seem to stop touching him. Her heart was racing and it was becoming very difficult to draw a proper breath. She looked up to find his face inches from hers, his eyes stormy as his tattoos illuminated once again. She could feel the heat of them under her fingertips. She wondered what it would be like if she kissed him. It would be so easy. All she had to do was lean up on her toes and their lips would touch. She didn't realize she'd done just that until she heard his sharp intake of breath.

Fenris stared at Selene, wondering if he had imagined the soft touch of her lips against his. She was gone in an instant, out of his arms and halfway across the room before he could catch her.

"I'm so sorry, Fenris. I had no right to - I should not have come here." She fled the room, the train of her dress flying out behind her.

He caught her at the door, slamming it shut just as she was pulling it open. She froze, staring at the door. He couldn't see her face. He was afraid to touch her, afraid of pushing her too far. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't let her go.

"Selene, you are unlike any woman I've ever met." His voice was smooth as satin next to her ear. "I never thought I needed anyone - never thought I wanted anyone until now. Goosebumps spread over her skin when his warm breath kissed the back of her neck. I know you've had a troubled past. Don't go. I swear I won't take advantage of you."

"What if I'm leaving because I want you to take advantage of me?" She turned to look at him, her green eyes shimmering the way they did in his dreams.

"Do you care for me, Hawke, or is this the drugs talking? Can you tell the difference?" He was terrified of her answer, but he had to ask. "Would you have kissed me just now if you hadn't been slipped something?"

She hung her head, ashamed. "No, I wouldn't have. I have tried to keep my distance from you, Fenris, but you always seem to draw me back in. I look for reasons to touch you; I can't stand to let anyone but you touch me. I've never felt this way for anyone, I never though I could. But I am a mage. You deserve better."

Relief and exhilaration warred with outrage. She thought he could do better? Better than Selene Hawke? The idea would have been laughable if he hadn't been so frustrated. He forced her to look at him. "I am not worth the dirt you walk on. I don't know why you can't see that, but I thank the Maker for it." He leaned down slowly and brushed his lips softly against hers, hesitating for a moment, giving her plenty of time to turn away before fully claiming her mouth. He kissed her gently, despite the storm raging inside him. _Careful. _He cautioned himself. _She has been misused, go slowly._ He was as inexperienced as she was, but he hadn't gone through the same thing she had. She still didn't know that he knew.

She didn't turn away, though. She was shy as she leaned into his kiss, her full lips soft and pliant under his. Her hand trembled as she threaded her fingers though the silky white hair at the back of his neck. A low groan escaped him when her breasts brushed against his bare chest. She wasn't wearing a breast band under that dress! He wrapped one arm around her, pulling her closer. She was so small in his arms; he could span her narrow waist with one hand.

"Come back upstairs with me." He whispered. He teased her upper lip with his tongue. "No pressure, no expectations, just stay with me tonight. It has become…difficult to sleep without you." It was true. He cherished her sleep days, which were infrequent at best. He hated that night was such a difficult time for her, but he loved that after each nightmare he could climb into bed and hold her, and she would cling to his as though he was the thing holding her to the earth.

Selene struggled to stand on shaking legs. She had been slow to recognize her desire for Fenris for what it was, and she had been terrified of it, but that did nothing to stop the butterflies that swirled in her stomach whenever she looked at him. He deserved better than a mage, but she couldn't stay away from him, and now he was kissing her. She wondered if she should thank the Seneschal for providing her with the courage to make a colossal ass of herself, or Cullen for suggesting she seek out someone she trusted. The efforts of two men she would have killed without a second thought led her to this embrace with her lyrium wolf, and she was extremely grateful.

"My heart would have broken if you had let me go just now." She murmured, against his mouth. He shivered when her fingers traced the shell of his pointed ear and trailed down the side of his neck to rest against his chest.

"Never, Hawke. I'll never let you go." His voice was a low growl that vibrated against her neck. He slid one arm around her shoulders and hooked the other behind her knees to lift her high against his chest. Selene gasped and threw her arms around his neck. His warm chuckle curled her toes, and his mouth fused with hers again as he carried her up the stairs. She looked at him, confused, when he set her gently in her chair next to the fireplace. He traced the line of her jaw with a slender finger. "We have all night, Selene, and I want much more from you than your body…although I want that, too."

Relief warred with disappointment. She ached for him to touch her again, but she was intensely pleased that he respected her enough to go slowly. She admired the strong lines of his lean body as he crossed the room and knelt to retrieve her guitar case from under the bed.

He pulled the instrument from its case with almost reverent hands. He had never touched it before. He could feel the lyrium folded into it resonating with the lyrium in his tattoos. He wondered idly if it would work for him. He placed it gently in her lap and kissed her forehead, breathing her in.

"You have opened yourself to me in many ways in the time that I've known you," he said. "But you are never as present as when you play. I want you to play for me now. Show me that you're real."

Hawke knew that this was a test, at least in part. She smiled; he wanted to know if she'd written any songs for him. She had, but she blushed to let him hear them. She could see the lust written plainly across his face, but there was vulnerability there too. He deserved to know that she had genuine feelings for him, that she hadn't come to him on a drug-induced whim. She smiled and looked him in the eye as she began the song she'd written when she first realized she wanted more than friendship from the elf. An impossible whish, she'd thought at the time.

Fenris devoured Hawke with his eyes as he took a seat across from her. He watched, mesmerized, as her slender fingers plucked and caressed the strings of her guitar. He fell short of breath when she began to sing, her voice was almost haunting as it echoed off the cold stone walls. He realized that she'd been hiding from him. She stood by him, vigilant and silent, just as he had done with her for so long; wishing hopelessly for a future that could never be.

She blushed delicately as she let the song fade. Her face turned to the floor and smiled as she recalled the night Fenris had accepted her athame. He'd taken it without question, growing insulted when she gave him the opportunity to change his mind. She'd written this song for him that night.

Fenris had always been protective, but he'd become her guardian in truth that night. He didn't know it, but she had been inordinately pleased that he'd disobeyed her and followed her home. It had been a difficult decision, giving him that dagger. She felt like she wasn't fighting for his freedom anymore, she was taking it away. The fact that he'd disobeyed her, argued with her fiercely, was a soothing balm to her guilty conscience. She had never trusted anyone the way she trusted this elf, never wanted to be close to anyone this way. He had become her light when she was lost in the dark. They were as different as two people could be, yet they were the same. They both ran from a past they could never leave behind.

She ended her song and met Fenris's eyes again. Watching him watching her made it increasingly difficult to keep her mind on her music, and she could feel the magic creeping back into her fingertips. She smiled softly to herself and set her guitar aside. She rose slowly and crossed the room to stand between his knees. She leaned down until they were eye level, bracing her hands on the arms of his chair. When he looked at her questioningly, she didn't say anything, only kissed the base of his throat. She pressed another kiss to the corner of his jaw, then lightly grazed his earlobe with her teeth.

Fenris thought he might jump out of her skin. Surely there had never been a sweeter torture than Hawke's shy, teasing kisses. Did she think he was made of stone? He was starting to feel like he was; his pants had grown uncomfortably tight. He took her face in his hands, intending to steal a proper kiss from her, but stopped and frowned.

"Hawke, you're burning up!" He croaked, jumping to his feet. He swore softly. "I'm taking you to Anders. I should have done it from the start." He took her hand and tried to lead her from the room, but she pulled back.

"My magic is returning." She said. "I will be able to heal myself soon. I just wanted to kiss you again before I lost my nerve." She blushed and looked at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"You've been poisoned, love. It was unwise of me to wait so long to-" He cut off when that familiar blue glow appeared in her hands and enveloped her body. She'd healed herself, and she wasn't fidgeting as much, but her eyes were still too bright, and her cheeks were still flushed. He felt her forehead for fever. Nothing.

"I'm fine, I just…" She trailed off, embarrassed.

"You just what? Are you sure you're alright?" Concern painted his voice, and Hawke smiled shyly.

"I am healed, Fenris. There is no trace of the poison left and I am fine, if a bit tired, but more than sleep, I just want you to kiss me again."

His hand cupped the back of her neck and his mouth slanted over hers before she could change her mind. Fenris's heart soared. She still wanted him! He stifled a groan when she pressed herself fully against him. She flinched when she felt his erection pressing into her soft belly, but she did not pull away. Her soft sigh turned into a gasp when he swept his tongue inside her mouth to stroke hers.

Fenris had never considered himself a lucky man before he met Hawke. He never thought he'd feel this way for anyone, and once he found her, he'd never dreamed she would return his feelings. He found any excuse he could to put his arms around her, on and off the battlefield, but he'd only dreamed of holding her this way. He allowed his hand to travel down and hug the curve of her hip. The silk was soft, but Fenris knew it didn't come close to the supple smoothness of her skin.

He tore his mouth away from hers and trailed kisses down her neck, bending her over his arm and tracing her collarbone with his lips and tongue. He thought he could come undone when he felt her warm breath next to his ear, felt her tongue snake out to flick its pointed tip and bite down gently.

"Carefully, love." He whispered against the erratic pulse of her throat. "It seems my ears are…sensitive."

"A weakness I have every intention of exploiting." She whispered, sucking his earlobe into her mouth and shyly pushing her hips against his.

Fenris went very still. He did not release her, but he pulled back to meet her glowing green gaze. His heart was hammering inside his chest, but she scarcely dared to breathe. "Are you sure you want this, Selene?" He asked, running his thumb along her full lower lip. "I am a slave."

"You have been a free man for years." She kissed him, long and lingering, easing his shirt from his shoulders and letting it drop to the floor. "Do you really think it would matter to me if you were? I didn't fall for a label, Fenris. I fell for you. I'm not afraid when I'm with you. I trust you."

"Oh, you've done it now, Hawke." He growled, pulling the sticks from her hair and tangling his hands in the thick silky mass, it was getting long. "You're well and truly stuck with me."

Selene felt her heart skip several beats and she smiled against his lips as he backed her toward the bed. Her fingers dug into the hard muscles of his back. It had always made her skin crawl to let any man touch her, but it was different with Fenris. Perhaps it was because he was the only one who had respected her space. His touch was gentle, careful, but also strong and possessive. The sound of his voice made her knees turn to water, his arms made her feel safe and supported, and it was without fear that she eased herself back onto the bed.

Fenris stared down at her for a long minute, drinking in the sight of her. Her alabaster skin and auburn hair stood out vividly against his jet black sheets. "You are ridiculously small for a human." He said, with a smile. "But you are by far the most beautiful person I've ever seen."

He stretched out beside her on the bed, propping himself up on an elbow. He could feel her eyes on him. He took a deep shuddering breath as she explored his body with her hands. Shy fingers danced up his torso, tickling him slightly before spreading over his powerful chest, across his shoulders, and up to the back of his neck to pull him down for another kiss.

He made love to her with his mouth; his tongue mated with hers, thrusting in and out of the hot, wet cave, imitating a dance as old as time. She whimpered softly, but it was a frustrated sound. He could feel her hips undulating to the rhythm of his tongue. He slid his had up her flat stomach to fondle a full breast, his thumb brushed her nipple, which spiked instantly in response.

"Is it alright for me to touch you like this?" He asked, dropping his forehead against hers. He gave her a gentle squeeze when she nodded, and dipped his head down to take the hard little peak into his mouth, curling his tongue around it and suckling softly through the thin material of her dress. The silk was a flimsy barrier between his mouth and her skin, but one that frustrated him nonetheless. His had trailed lowed to grip her hip and pull her toward him. His fingers tickled the sensitive spot behind her knee as he hooked one of her long legs around his waist, and his hips snapped forward to press against her hot center.

"Am I going too fast for you?" He asked, when she gasped against his neck and sank her teeth into his shoulder.

Selene shook her head, her tongue tracing the swirling lines of his tattoo where she had bitten him; words seemed beyond her. Fenris was slowly driving her mad with his hands and his mouth. He was almost shy, the way he asked her permission, but he seemed to know just how to touch her, and her body ached for more. She tightened her leg around his waist and arched into him. She raked her nails lightly down his back, hooking her fingertips into the waistband of his pants.

He rolled her onto her back, threading his long fingers though her thick hair and kissing her deeply, rocking his hips deliberately against hers. Fenris could feel his control slipping away. He growled and bit her lip when he felt her hand slide into his pants to dig her fingernails into his hip; he could feel her husky laugh from the tips of his ears down to his toes, and he knew that she was all he could ever need. She was his little mage, and she would belong to no man but him.

Selene could feel a strange pressure building inside her, mingling with her mana and threatening to burst. "Fenris…" She gasped; her voice was tinged with fear. She couldn't hold back this tide much longer. She didn't know what was happening. Nothing had ever felt like this, yet her magic was responding strangely and she was afraid of hurting him.

"It's alright, love." He whispered, but it was too late. She could feel herself coming apart in his arms. She could feel the mana explode out of her and pout into him, feeding him her pleasure and delivering his back to her. She was unaware that she was leaving long scratches down his back, unaware that she was moaning his name. She was oblivious to everything but Fenris holding her and calling out with his own earth shattering orgasm.

"I'm sorry." She whispered, as he collapsed against her. "I didn't know…"

Fenris raised himself up on his elbows to stare down at her incredulously. "If you apologize for that, Hawke," he said, lowering his head to nuzzle her neck. "I believe I might strangle you." He rolled onto his side, pulling her with him. He trailed his fingers idly down her thigh, exposed by the slit in her dress. "I think I may have been too harsh in my judgment of your attire."

Selene stretched languorously and smiled. "No, you were right. It is ridiculous, but I'm glad you like it."

"I like it very much, indeed, although I'm not crazy about anyone else seeing you in it. Perhaps if you were to have an accident and it tore?" He suggested, seizing a handful of silk.

"The idea has merit, but what will I wear home tomorrow?"

"Mmm…I rather like the way you looked wearing my tunic. I'm sure something can be arranged." He said, with a devilish grin.

"What will Mother say?" She asked, teasingly.

"Does it matter?" He kept his voice light, but his expression was guarded.

"I suppose I never thought of it that way." She snuggled against his chest, pressing a soft kiss to his heart. "It's a good thing I have you to point these things out to me."

"While we're on the subject of tunics, I'm sure I can find something more comfortable for you to sleep in. I shall return momentarily." He was reluctant to leave her, afraid that if he let her slip from his embrace he would wake to find it was all a dream.

Fenris returned a few minutes later, still shirtless, but he had changed into a pair of loose fitting white cotton pants. Hawke felt her breath catch in her throat. He was so alluring to her, she sometimes felt he didn't belong in this world, but she was eternally grateful to know him, whether he belonged here or not. He handed her a tunic of mossy green silk the same color as his eyes. She reached out to take it from him, but her hand froze halfway between them.

"Is something wrong?" He asked, looking around for signs of danger. Selene had suddenly gone very pale.

"I…need you to help me unlace my dress." She said, hesitantly. She very sincerely wished she had an excuse to hand his shirt back and sleep in her clothes instead. She couldn't believe she'd forgotten about her scar! She had fretted over it at the party, but Fenris had forced it from her mind completely until now. She couldn't undress without help, and he couldn't help without seeing what had been done to her. She knew it was a little late to be shy, considering the events for the evening. _Did you think you could hide it forever? _She asked herself. _You were lucky to have gone this far without him finding out._ She took a deep breath and offered her back to him. She was surprised when he slipped an arm around her waist and dropped his chin on her shoulder.

"It's alright, love." He said. "I know you're shy. You don't have to be afraid, I won't hurt you."

His words were comforting, but she stiffened slightly when she felt his nimble fingers tugging at her laces. She didn't need to look at him to know he had found the silvery brand that wound its way around her body. His lyrium tattoos lit the room and he spun her around to face him, fury plainly etched in every line of his body.

"Who did this to you?" He whispered, hoarsely. Agony stained his voice and his hands shook as he gingerly brushed her hair out of her face.

"Some things are better left alone." She said, averting her eyes from his searching gaze.

"No. You will answer me, Hawke."

Selene studied him for a long minute before responding. Fenris had shared his experience in Tevinter with her, and as much as she wanted to lie, she knew she owed him better than that. She sighed heavily. "Back in Lothering, I was kidnapped by Templars. They dosed me with lyrium, cut me with mage bane so I couldn't defend myself, and forced me into the Fade to see if I would make a pact with a demon. It was their own version of the Harrowing, a game designed for me to lose." It was a bare-bones account, but it was the first time she told the whole truth…at least the key points.

"But you won." He said, folding his arms around her. She trembled in his arms, but she hugged him back fiercely.

"If you can call it that. I've been paying the price for it ever since." She said, bitterly. "The Harrowing never truly ended for me. The demons of the Fade remember, and they find me easily."

"So you don't sleep." It was a statement, not a question.

"Not unless someone is there to make sure I wake up human, someone who will put an end to this if I don't. I am more grateful to you that you know."

"How did such a thing go unpunished?"

Selene looked up at him and arched a delicate eyebrow. "If I had told my family that Templars did this, Carver would have been compelled to seek justice, it was in his nature. Who would side with mages against Templars? Mother and Carver would have been killed, and Bethany and I would have been sent to the Circle if we were lucky. It told them it was bandits. Carver never believed it, but as I said, some things are better left alone."

_Would that I had a name to give you. _Carver's words echoed sadly in Fenris's memory. How could she endure it? How could she abide knowing that her attackers walked free? He stared down at his little mage as pieces of the puzzle snapped into place. No one could help her when she needed it, so she helped anyone she could. She hadn't grown hard and bitter the way he had, she had worked to create something good from it. If someone told him she was Andraste made flesh, he would have believed it.

Two things happened that night. Fenris planned a visit to the Keep to have a discussion with Aveline and the Seneschal, and Hawke slept a peaceful, dreamless sleep for the first time in seven years.

**Songs**

**Fade Into You by Mazzy Star**

**Wonderwall by Oasis**

_Dear readers, _

_The Dissent quest is drawing ever closer in my story, and I would like to know how much you want to know about what happened to Hawke during her captivity. Would you like all the gory details, or would you like me to gloss over it the way I did in this chapter? I must warn you, middle ground is a difficult place for me to stand. Please, please, please leave a review or PM me with your opinion. I could never do it without you, so thank you so much for reading!_


	15. Chapter 15

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. _

_I have used the Roman tongue to replace Fenris's native Tevinter. Greek or West Germanic would be a closer match, but Roman is easier to translate and I am lazy._

_**SMUT WITHIN, **__you have been warned. Bioware owns all characters, etc._

**Hard to Swallow**

_May she rot, and all the other mages with her. What does magic touch that it doesn't spoil? _Maker, had he really said those things to her? He had misstepped badly even before that, accusing her of taking Orana as a slave. As if he didn't know her better than that. But as soon as he heard Hadriana's name, all he could think about was how she had taunted and tormented him, tortured him in his dreams. In many ways, she had been worse than Danarius; they were both blood mages and hungry for power, but Hadriana was more…creative in her punishments. Magic had stolen everything from him, and in his anger, he had lashed out at the one mage - the one person who had truly tried to help him.

The worst part was that she had let him do it, silencing Aveline with a subtle hand gesture when she sought to speak in her defense. Hawke said not a word through his tirade, her face slowly losing its expression as he shouted at her, until she was back to the mask she had worn when they first met. Then he left her there. He'd walked along the Wounded Coast for a long while, trying to see what trap Danarius had set for him this time, but all he could think about was Hawke. That he owed her an apology was an understatement. If she hadn't been there, the slavers would have taken him easily, but even Hadriana had faltered in the face of Hawke's cold fury. She had saved him.

When he arrived at her house, he was surprised to learn that she had not yet returned. He paced her foyer in his agitation. Has she encountered trouble on the way back? _I should never have left her. I am supposed to protect her! _What could he say to make this up to her?

He still hadn't thought of anything when she walked through the door, smelling strongly of sativa, her expressionless mask firmly in place. She did not say anything, only looked at him while he struggled for words. When he didn't say anything, she turned away from him.

"I am releasing you from your duty." She said, tonelessly. "You are neither my servant, nor my slave. There is no debt between us. If you need help against Danarius, you have it, but if you wish to move on you may. I will not keep you here."

"You're releasing me?" Fenris thought he might choke on the words. He felt like an icy hand was squeezing his heart. He had not expected this. "Hawke, no-"

"It was selfish of me to give the athame to you, knowing your opinion of mages. I have surrounded you with magic, and I should not have." She turned to look at him with sad eyes. "I never meant to trap you."

Fenris slammed her against the wall, protecting her head at the last second with his hand. His lyrium tattoos glowed as brightly as the sun. His fingers made a fist in her hair. "You fucking know better!" He shouted. He took a deep calming breath, but he could feel the muscles in his jaw twitching. He did not release her. "I came here to apologize to you, Hawke, but it seems you need instruction as well. _I_ came into _your_ life and pushed out anyone else who might care for you so that you would notice me - spend your time with me. I was insanely jealous of Carver's position as your bodyguard, I wanted to kill Aveline for pushing me out of the expedition, and I leapt at the first chance you gave me to create a tie to you. You got it backwards, Hawke. I trapped you. You belong to me." His mouth came down hard on hers, forcing her lips apart to taste the sweetness within.

Hawke gasped. This was nothing like the sweet, gentle kisses they had shared in the weeks since the Viscount's party. He was hot and demanding, pressing her between his body and the wall, dominating her with his thrusting tongue. _I belong to him, do I? _She thought, delightedly. _I suppose I can live with that._ She ran her hands along his muscular arms to grip his shoulders, and smiling slightly, she hooked one of her legs around his, tripping and pushing him against the wall in her place. He laughed when she had to stand on her toes to kiss him properly; the warm, velvety sound made her shiver.

His hands slid down to curve around her bum, and he lifted her against him. He groaned his approval into her mouth when she wrapped her legs tightly around his hips, and he carried her upstairs, rubbing her along his thick length with every step. He had her moaning and clawing at the buckles of his armor by the time they reached the bedroom. He slid her down his body until her feet touched the floor, and turned her so he could unlace her corset.

"Maker be damned, is all of your clothing difficult?" He grumbled, taking a dagger to her laces the way he had dreamed so many times.

"No more than yours." She whispered between gasps. His hands had wandered under her shirt. "I have no idea how your armor works."

Fenris hadn't realized he'd find it so arousing that she didn't know how to undress a man. He turned her once again, kissing her deeply and guiding her hands to the buckles on his armor. Fire was racing in his blood. He had worried that he would frighten her with his intensity, but she responded to him eagerly, more than matching his passion with an urgent need of her own.

His armor fell to the floor and Hawke smiled, smoothing her hands over his broad shoulders and tangling her fingers in his hair. Fenris made a purring sound in the back of his throat and lifted her, wrapping her legs around his hips once more, and carried her to the bed. He rose over her, his mouth hot and hungry against hers as his hands began their gentle exploration of her body. Maker, he loved touching her; her skin was soft and supple and satiny under his callused fingers, yet strong and well toned. In Tevinter, the magisters were soft and prone to fat; certainly none of them could have flipped him onto his back the way Selene had.

Straddling him now, she leaned back to look at him, running her hands over the hard muscles of his chest. His usually mossy green eyes glittered like emeralds; his strong hands gripped her hips, guiding her to a teasing rhythm that made her burn. She moaned softly, her head falling back as Fenris leaned up to press hot kisses along the column of her throat. When his hands slipped under her shirt once more, she pulled it over her head, not caring where it landed. Fenris took advantage of her momentary distraction to lift her into a kneeling position, and dipping his head, he tugged the laced of her breeches open with is teeth. He kissed a hot path up her stomach to bury his face in her full breasts before pressing her onto her back once more.

A strange sad look shadowed his face as he gazed down at her. He lowered his head slowly, and claimed her lips in a soft sweet kiss as his thumb caressed the silvery scar where it hugged the underside of her left breast. His other hand wandered lower, teasing her gently through her breeches. Her gasp turned into a moan and she rolled her hips into his hand.

"You must tell me if I do anything you do not like." He whispered against her lips, stroking her with his long fingers, applying subtle pressure to her most sensitive spots.

His touch had made her bold, and she reached down to caress his hard arousal. She flinched away when he groaned and pressed himself against her, but he took her hand and put it back, showing her how to hold him. He was larger than she'd expected, long and thick and rock hard. It made her nervous, but not afraid - never afraid of Fenris - and with deft fingers, she unbuttoned his pants, freeing him from his constraint. She wrapped her fingers around him and stroked him shyly. He was hot and pulsing with need as he thrust into her hand. Selene was giddy with the knowledge that she could evoke such a fiery reaction from him. Isabella threw herself at the elf on a regular basis, and he responded with cool indifference at best.

Fenris could feel his control slipping away with each gentle stroke of Selene's fingers. He pulled her hand away from him, kissing her palm before removing the last barriers of clothing between them. He felt his mouth go dry as he gazed down at her naked form. Her alabaster breasts were firm round globes crested with delicate, petal-pink areolas that had hardened into little peaks, straining for his touch. Her stomach was flat and toned with muscle; her waist seemed impossibly narrow before gently flaring outward to lead into flawlessly curved hips and long, shapely legs. He would not have believed such perfection existed had he not seen it with his own eyes.

Unbidden, his lyrium tattoos activated, throwing shadows on the walls and bathing Selene in an eerie blue light. He followed the lines of her scar with furious eyes. The wound curved sinuously around her body, suggesting ownership. It was similar to some slaver brands he had seen. Someone had marked her as property! She hadn't been able to hide that she'd received the mark from the Templars, but he'd had no idea it embraced her in such an intimate way, curling sensually around her lush curves.

Selene blushed, but she had a defiant look in her eyes as she knelt in front of him, seeming totally at ease in her nudity. She reached out to trace to shell of his ear and leaned forward to press a feather light kiss on the bridge of his nose. Her breasts brushed against his chest, making him gasp and reach for her again. He caressed the lines of her scar in a way that made her shiver and arch against him. His fingers played lightly around her hip, slowly dancing and teasing their way between her legs. When she reached down to stroke him again, he stopped her.

"I may not be able to last if you keep doing that." He said, sliding his fingers along her slit and tweaking her nipple playfully before taking it fully into his mouth, suckling and circling it with his tongue.

Selene clung to his shoulders and arched into his mouth, moaning wildly and bucking her hips against his hand. His thumb had found the sensitive nub hiding in her slick folds, and he teased her shamelessly. "Fenris, please…" She begged, pulling him down on top of her. She let out a soft cry as he gently pushed one long finger inside her.

"Am I hurting you?" He asked, partially withdrawing his hand and sliding back in when she lifted her hips and tightened her thighs on his wrist, asking him without words not to stop his sweet torment. She was hot and went and tight, and Fenris wasn't sure how much longer he could wait. She writhed under his ministrations, gasping and moaning and begging - although she couldn't seem to say what she wanted.

Selene whimpered in protest when Fenris removed his hand from between her legs and slowly licked her juice from his finger. "You taste good." He said when she blushed. "Like a peach." He kissed her deeply, coaxing her mouth open so she could taste herself on his tongue. She gasped softly into his mouth when she felt something much larger than his finger gently caress her opening. He looked down at her with a tender smile. "Are you sure you're ready for this?"

She leaned up and kissed him hard, her fingers tangling in his hair almost painfully. "By all that's holy, Fenris, if you stop now, you will not leave this room alive."

"Mmm, as you command, Mistress." He purred, easing his way into her hot, tight sheath inch by slow inch until he was completely surrounded by her.

Selene's breath came out in a panting gasp as Fenris slowly filled her, stretching her impossibly tight. There was pain, but also an intense pleasure unlike anything she'd ever dreamed. They were one, she was complete.

Fenris wanted to wait, to give her time to adjust to him, but she raised her knees to wrap her legs around his waist. Her inner walls contracted almost painfully around him, drawing him deeper than he could believe. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, kissing her there, sucking gently, determined to mark her in his own way. He pulled out slightly and sank back in with a soft groan. She arched her hips up to meet him, and she nipped the tip of his ear sharply, drawing an involuntary thrust from him, harder this time. She screamed softly.

"I'm sorry, love. I didn't mean to-" he whispered, concern shone in his eyes as he examined her face.

"Maker's breath, I hope you _did_ mean to." She interrupted, digging her fingernails into his hips and pulling him down for a hot wet kiss, stroking and sucking his tongue. Fenris's control snapped then, and he thrust into her with long powerful strokes, mindless to everything but the woman beneath him, moaning and writhing with wild abandon.

As Fenris pounded into her, Selene could feel that strange pressure building inside her, infinitely more intense than it had been before. She could feel her mana pool fill nearly to bursting, amplifying the pressure building deep inside her as her sweet warrior drove her ever closer to fulfillment.

_"Esti a mea, mica mea vrajitoare, mica mea floare a lunii. Tu esti salvarea mea, viata mea, dragostea mea. Nu te voi parasi niciodata."* _He whispered. His voice was raw next to her ear, shooting hot shivers through her already over stimulated body. It was too much. She tightened her legs around his waist, anchoring him deep inside as her release crashed over them.

Fenris felt Selene tightening around him before he felt the flood of mana burst out of her and pour into him, and in that instant the rest of the world ceased to exist. Only she was real. They were connected, their hearts beat as one, they shared the same breath, the same life; they were a single entity bound together by ecstasy. Fenris chanted her name between endearments whispered in broken Tevinter as he pumped her full of his seed. He knew it was irresponsible, but the thought of Selene swollen with his child made a pretty picture in his mind. He collapsed next to her with a satisfied groan and rested his head on the soft pillow of her breasts, smiling slightly as she gently combed her fingers through his hair. He was asleep in minutes.

**oOo**

_Fenris dreamed he was a boy of ten, chasing a girl through a maze of sheets hung from a field of clotheslines. This was not just any girl, he knew. A flash of bright red hair streaked past his line of sight and disappeared. Varania. He couldn't see her face, but he knew beyond the shadow of doubt that this was his sister. He called her name, but she didn't stop or turn around, and no matter how fast he ran he couldn't catch up to her. He could hear her laughing, an unpleasant sound that seemed to come from everywhere. He'd never felt so small and alone._

"_I am free as you will never be." She giggled in a cruel, singsong voice. He ran, searching for a way out of this maze, a way to escape that mocking laughter._

_The sheets seemed to grab at him, flying in his face, confusing him until he wasn't sure which direction he was facing. With a frustrated curse, he decided that any direction would be better than standing here. He hadn't gone five paces before the laundry tangled itself in his legs, forcing him to his knees. When you looked up, the maze was gone, but the sight that greeted him made him wish he could go back there._

_He was fifteen now, his wrists chained to a gibbet. Danarius and Hadriana were taking turns whipping him and a crowd had gathered to watch. They laughed as he shouted and struggled and cursed. Whippings were a common enough occurrence in the magister's household, and Fenris barely noticed the whip laying open long strips of flesh across his back. No, it was his mother who held his attention. A group of Danarius's bodyguards were clustered in a circle around her, laughing as they kicked her and spit in her face. She reached out to him, crying his name, but he could not hear. It was a curious thing that his name should be silent, but he could hear her scream every time the lash made contact with his skin._

_This was all his fault. His mother had the coughing sickness, and it was getting worse. When she didn't get up in the morning, he peeked his head in her room to find her pillow stained with blood. She was curled into a tight ball, spluttering, hacking coughs wracking her frail body. He backed out of the room and stole swift and silent down to the castle apothecary. Varania couldn't heal more than a bruise, but she did have some knowledge of herbs. He was certain there was something here that could help her. He didn't hear Hadriana sneak in behind him, never knew she was there until he turned around, his pockets bulging with herbs and agents stolen from the magister's personal store. That was how he and his mother had come to be in this damnable position._

_The soft sound of tearing cloth was as loud as thunder in his ears. His eyes widened in horror when one of the guards unbuttoned his pants. His own beating completely forgotten, Fenris swung his legs up over the gibbet, and looping the spare length of chain around his fingers and making a fist. It would have to do. He didn't have a lot of time._

_As he leapt from the gibbet and charged into his mother's assailants, he was vaguely aware of Hadriana aiming her staff at him, but Danarius stopped her with a touch on the arm and a smile that was half intrigued and half amused. Fenris misliked that very much, but he could not afford to think on it. He smashed his chained fist into Pants Undone's teeth as hard as he could, knocking several out, and leaving his mouth a bloody ruin._

_Tore Mother's Dress made a grab for him, but he deftly spun out of reach, positioning himself behind Pants Undone. He unwrapped the chain from around his hands and, throwing it over Pants' head, he pulled tight, effectively cutting off the guard's air supply and using him as a shield. There was still Tore Mother's Skirt and two other guards to contend with. He backed away slowly, not allowing them to circle him. The fight was going out of Pants. He would not be a good shield very much longer, Fenris needed to act._

_There was a dagger in the back of Pants' belt, trapped between their bodies. He didn't have a choice. He loosened his hold on the chain enough to reach down and grab the sidearm. Pants twisted, fighting with renewed vigor to free himself, but Fenris was too fast. He jammed the blade hard into Pants' spine. The guard stiffened, then crumpled when the elf wrenched the dagger free. He would live, but he would never walk again._

_Fenris did not hesitate. He lunged at Skirt, slashing at him with the short blade. The guard casually knocked the dagger aside. A smug smile spread across his face, then soured when Fenris smiled back. His long fingers dug into Skirt's throat viciously and he slowly made a fist, crushing his windpipe._

_He turned to face the other two guards. His hands were bound and he didn't have a weapon, but his opponents' faces paled and they backed away slowly. Fenris advanced, wrapping the chains around his hands once more. He knew he could demand surrender and get it, but he would not. They had attacked his mother._

_The guards widened their stance, thinking to surround him. Fenris sneered. If they attacked him together, closed in on him, he couldn't stand a chance. Instead, they were considerate enough to make separate targets of themselves. His heart was pounding, his blood was racing, his thoughts had never been so sharp, so clear; his mind worked like quicksilver. He has all the time in the world. Both guards were warriors; one wielded a great Bastard sword, the other carried a long sword and a heavy shield. _

_He strode confidently toward Bastard sword, leaning to his side at the last minute to avoid a heavy swing meant to remove his head; the wind from the blow ruffled his hair. He stepped in too close for the sword to be of any use, and gripping the front of the guard's hauberk, he head butt him four times in rapid succession. Blood exploded from Bastard's flattened nose, and Fenris swung a chained fist into his ear, discombobulating him._

_The sound of boots ringing on stone caught his attention. He smiled grimly. It seemed Shield had found his balls at last. He spun around, forcing Bastard to swing with him, then kicked him hard in the chest, sending him stumbling back into Shield's sword. The blade burst from his chest and sprayed blood across the elf's face. Taking advantage of the temporary diversion, Fenris lunged forward, catching the Bastard sword before it hit the ground, and swinging it in a wide arc, he split both men from neck to navel._

_Suddenly exhausted, he wiped the sword on Pants' cloak, and dragging it at his side, he turned to his mother. He didn't get three steps before the paving stones grew up around his legs, forcing him to a halt. Hadriana had cast the spell, of that he had no doubt, but it was Danarius who approached him. When the sword twitched in his hand, a sheet of rock sprouted from the ground, creating a new sheath for the weapon._

"_Peace, boy! Peace! Surely, the bloodlust has released you by now. Tell me the truth, boy. Were those the first men you've killed?" The magister spoke to him in jovial tones, but there was a predatory gleam in his eyes as he circled Fenris, examining him as though he were livestock._

"_They were." He said, stiffly._

"_Unarmed, and injured besides, yet my personal bodyguards did not manage to scratch you once. You killed four of my men, boy. Are you sorry?"_

"_I am sorry that I allowed them to beat my mother, I am sorry that I did not break free sooner, but I would kill those men again without a second thought."_

"_As I suspected. I could command you to be my bodyguard, but I have seen the way you look at me. I have no doubt that you would turn a blind eye to a dagger in the dark. I want you to protect me the way you protected her. How can I gain your loyalty?"_

"_You cannot." He spat at Danarius' feet, and was rewarded with a backhand and a smile._

"_You sound very certain of that, but every man has his price." Danarius' eyes slid toward his mother. "You risked your life and your mother's to steal those herbs from me. What would you give to see her well?"_

"_So she can spend the rest of her life under your whip?"_

"_Did I say that? I will free her."_

_Fenris could feel the trap closing. This might be his only chance to save his family. "I have a sister as well. Varania. Heal my mother, free them both with enough coin to start a new life, and I swear by every god that can hear me, I will protect you with my life. Swear it, Danarius, or the next life I take will be yours."_

"_I could have you all executed for treason just for making such a request, boy."_

"_But then you wouldn't have the bodyguard you want."_

"_You are just a slave. Do you truly think yourself so special that I would free two in order to keep one? Such arrogance." The magister scoffed._

"_Then kill me and have done with it. You waste my time."_

_Danarius threw his head back and laughed. "You have spirit, but I'll break you of that soon enough. You drive a hard bargain, elf, but it seems we have a deal." He looked to Hadriana. "Bind him. Take him to the dungeon for the brand. This one might survive."_

**oOo**

Fenris' eyes snapped open. "Leto…" Why did that sound familiar? Something happened when he was young. Danarius - it was slipping away. He recoiled when flashes of light flickered and died on Selene's fingertips. She slept fitfully, the Fade an ever-present horror, waiting to snare her again.

Maker, what had he done? She had been good to him, it was true. He couldn't stop the tender feelings that threatened to overwhelm him as he gazed down at her sleeping form, but a more dangerous, more powerful mage he had never met. She was constantly besought by demons or fighting against dire odds that would cast doubt in the most courageous heart. She knew she couldn't hold on forever, so she'd given him her athame.

Fenris eased himself silently from the bed and donned his armor as his past pressed down on him. He was ashamed that he had so readily grouped her with the magisters. He knew she would never succumb to demons; Selene was the soul of goodness. The truth was after all this time, he still felt like a slave. He was a penniless fugitive with nothing to offer someone like her. He stared into the fireplace for a long time, absently wrapping the red ribbon that usually bound her hair around his wrist.

"This is as far as it goes, then?"

Fenris spun around, startled at the sound of Selene's voice. She looked smaller than usual sitting in the middle of that big bed, the burgundy sheet wrapped around her, concealing her body from him. "I…began to remember…things…from before." He faltered, wondering how to continue. "Faces, names, for a moment, I could remember it all. And then it was gone." His heart screamed for him to stop, to climb back into bed with her and forget about the past. Nothing could be done to change it. But still he pressed on. "This is too much. It's too fast, I cannot…do this."

Selene expelled a bitter sigh of a laugh, but she did not say anything. She seemed to be looking through him rather than at him. Already she was retreating behind that cold mask. Fenris' heart constricted painfully as that expression locked into place and he realized that while he could look upon her face every day, he would never truly see her again.

"I'm sorry." His voice grated. "All I wanted was to be happy, at least for a little while. _Nu merit iertarea ta, mica mea vrajitoare."*_

"Fenris?"

He was halfway to the door when her voice froze him in his tracks. He did not face her, and scarcely daring to breathe, he prayed that she would ask him to stay, knowing he would not refuse if she did.

"Leave the athame."

**oOo**

Hawke sat alone in her bed for a long time after Fenris left, making little colored sparks on her fingertips and letting them fade. She puzzled through the events of the evening, trying to see his side, but she could not. _He knew I was a mage. Why did he do this to me? I told him he could leave!_

Moving stiffly, she rose from the bed and made her way to the washroom. She bathed quickly and vigorously, not caring that the water was cold. When she was finished, she padded back to her room to mix a potion that would still any life that might take root inside her. She'd only had to make this potion once before. Tears blurred her vision as she worked, but she knew Fenris would not accept a child born of magic. She drank it down with a grimace and dressed hastily, not even noticing what she had put on until she passed herself in the mirror.

She stopped then, staring at the white silk. It was the dress Fenris had given her to sleep in the first time they had spent the night together. She had forgotten she had it. With a heavy sigh, she took up her guitar, and barefoot, made her way to her spot on the Wounded Coast.

She never noticed Merrill ghosting along behind her.

**oOo**

Merrill spied Hawke leaving her house, and quickened her step to greet her, but stopped when she saw her face. Something was very wrong. She looked as infuriatingly calm as ever, but there was something almost fixed about the expression now - like it was the only one she knew. Her skin was nearly as pale as the dress she wore, and she stared straight ahead, not bothering to observe her surroundings as she made her way out of Hightown and along the Coast. Merrill was glad for that. She found you could learn more of Hawke through her music than you could talking to her.

She was attacked several times and Merrill sought to help, but there was never a battle to speak of. Hawke just walked along, never stopping, never looking or using her staff, and her enemies simply froze where they stood. She pressed on, as if the men were of no more consequence than gnats, until she reached her destination.

Merrill watched from behind a tree as Hawke took her usual place and stared at the sky. Clouds began to roll in, thick and dark, crashing with thunder and lightning. The wind rose and the temperature dropped and Hawke began to play. She started quietly, the howling wind curling around her body and her voice, gaining intensity as her anger and despair began to shine through. Thunder and lightning punctuated her lyrics as she screamed into the night.

_Fenris, you complete fool, what have you done? _Merrill wondered, her heart lurching as she watched Hawke play. Her face held no emotion at all; she poured all of her feelings into her songs as if that would make it all go away.

It began to snow softly and Merrill was startled to realize that the rock Hawke was standing on was glazed in ice, and even the tree she was hiding behind had a sparkling coat of frost. Winter never came to Kirkwall; Hawke must be doing this. Merrill wept silently for her friend. She had felt a similar coldness inside after Tamlen and Mahariel, her only friends, had disappeared from the clan.

She didn't realize how cold she was on the outside until Hawke finished playing. Wind and snow still swirled violently around them, and Merrill sank back into the shadows as the other mage returned to the mainland. She followed her back to Hightown at a distance, marveling at the icy footprints Hawke left behind.

Merrill followed Hawke safely home, but did not return home herself. She had a different destination in mind.

**oOo**

Fenris returned from the cellar and nearly dropped his bottle when he saw Merrill perched in Hawke's usual chair, looking every bit like a green-eyed raven, regarding him with cruel eyes. He had never been afraid of the perky little blood mage before, but the look on her face gave him reason to pause. "You are a greater fool than I had believed, Fenris." She slowly rose to her feet, a dangerous look on her face.

"You are not welcome here, witch." He spat, but he watched her warily as he took his chair, drinking deeply from his wine.

Merrill's eyes seemed to draw in the light, and her lip curled back into a vicious snarl. "You killed my friend." Her voice rasped. "Has she not lost enough, suffered enough? Are you punishing her for being a mage? Is she not good enough for you? Not pure enough? Not beautiful enough? Where was she lacking that you saw fit to use her in such a way?"

"I never used her!" Fenris bellowed, jumping to his feet. He was more than a head taller than Merrill, yet she seemed to loom over him.

"You did! You used her up until there was nothing left but a magical shell wearing Selene's face. How many years did you spend gaining her trust, breaking down her defenses, only to betray her as soon as she let you in? How will she trust anyone now? Why? Why did you do it?"

Fenris stood there as Merrill's word flayed him. He could think of no words to speak in his defense. He deserved this much and more. Since he'd met her, Hawke had been the light of his life, and he had extinguished the flame for fear of getting burned.

**oOo**

Weeks came and went, and Fenris spiraled deeper into despair. Hawke called on him for help less frequently, and rarely teamed with him on the battlefield when she did. She still came for his reading lessons, but no longer did they spend lazy afternoons with her reclining against his chest as he fumbled through some of her favorite childhood stories. She worked him hard, offering praise when he did well and gently correcting him when he needed improvement, but she never touched him, never smiled, her gaze never softened when she looked his way. She acted as though none of it had ever happened. He was no different from any of her other companions now, and it was slowly cutting his heart out.

The job was finished faster than he could believe when Varric arrived at his door one day and poured him a drink. "I think it's time you and I had a little talk." The dwarf said, none of his easy humor present in his demeanor.

"Have you come to point out my foolishness as well?" Fenris asked, accepting the drink gratefully.

"Yes and no. You should know that since you left, Hawke has had her mother and Aveline preaching to her in both ears about honor and duty and making plans for the future. I didn't think it would do any good, but you know Hawke always does her duty."

"Spit it out, Varric." Fenris commanded, fearing what was coming next.

"Hawke is set to marry Seamus Dumar in three months time. I don't think- I'm sorry, elf."

"Does he guard her sleep now?" He asked in a hollow voice. He knew what the dwarf was going to say: _I don't think she would have done it if there had been a reason to say no._

Varric knew it would be kinder to lie, but it had been weeks since he had seen Hawke smile, and the elf had much to answer for. "Nobody guards her sleep because she doesn't sleep anymore. She relies on her magic to stay awake."

"Please leave now, Varric." His voice was eerily calm, but his anguished cry followed the dwarf out the door.

**Translations:**

**_Esti a mea, mica mea vrajitoare, mica mea floare a lunii. Tu esti salvarea mea, viata mea, dragostea mea. Nu te voi parasi niciodata_**

_You are mine, my little mage, my precious moonflower. You are my savior, my life, and my love. I will never leave your side._

_**_Nu merit iertarea ta, mica mea vrajitoare._**_

_I do not deserve your forgiveness, my little mage._

_A special thanks to ancaMosel for help with translations!  
><em>

**Songs:**

_Pardon Me _by **Incubus**

_This Time Imperfect _by **A.F.I.**

_The Kill_ by **30 Seconds to Mars**

_I'm Not an Angel_ by **Halestorm**

_Blood to Bleed_ by** Rise Against**

_Torch Song_ by** A.F.I.**

Thank you so much for the overwhelming response regarding the Dissent chapter. You have spoken clearly and I will comply…but first things first. I'm sorry if I led you to believe it was coming up next. One more chapter, and _then _Dissent.

Hope you enjoy!


	16. Chapter 16

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally._

**Night Terrors**

Hawke came home to find Seamus waiting for her in the library. He drew her hand to his lips for a kiss, blushing slightly as his brilliant turquoise eyes met her glowing green gaze. He was handsome enough, after a fashion, if a bit boyish. He was five years her senior, but he seemed so _young._ Still, he was kindhearted and willing to learn about other cultures with an open mind. His interest in the Qunari had not faded, but he had a new passion now - mages. He was fascinated with her magic and had questioned her for hours when she accidentally let it slip that she had met Flemeth.

Today though, he looked at her with a hopeful expression. Hawke sighed inwardly; she'd been expecting something like this. She was surprised it hadn't come sooner. "Seamus," she greeted him, pleasantly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He smiled warmly, threading his fingers with hers. "Does a man need a reason to visit his fiancé?" He pressed his lips softly to hers in a kiss that was just a step beyond the boundaries of chaste.

Hawke accepted his affection, although it was not his kiss she desired. She could still feel Fenris' presence racing through her blood, flooding her heart painfully every time she allowed her mind to wander in his direction. She pushed her former lover from her thoughts, tried to focus her attention on Seamus, and forced a smile.

"Just because you don't need a reason to see me doesn't mean you don't have one." She said.

Seamus laughed at that, a rich booming sound that bounced off the walls. "I had hoped that a lifetime at court might be of some use, but I should know better than to bandy words with a mage." His expression turned serious. "I got your note this morning. You are entering the Fade to help that boy?"

Keeper Marethari said it has to be someone he trusts, and I suppose that's me since I helped him escape the Templars. It has been a hard life among the Dalish, and he has not made many friends."

"He could not ask for a better friend than you. You do not even consider the danger, do you?"

"Danger is something I calculate every step of the way, Seamus. That is why I go to the Fade alone. It is too dangerous for anyone to come with me."

"I was hoping you would take me. What better way to gain a better understanding of the strength it takes to _be_ a mage? I could use this experience to speak out for mages all over the Free Marches." His eyes fairly glowed with enthusiasm.

"Now who isn't considering danger?" Hawke said, in a dry voice.

"There is nothing a demon could tempt me with now that I have you."

"That's very sweet, but I mean what I say. I would not put any of my friends at such risk, and you least of all."

"Yet you ask me to watch you take these risks every day."

"You are Seamus Dumar, the future Viscount of Kirkwall. I'm just Hawke. The world will not notice my passing, but you are needed. You can really make a difference. You're not coming with me."

Seamus took her shoulders in a tight grip. He did not hurt her, but neither did her allow struggling. "You are Selene Hawke, descended from a proud line of mages and nobles alike. I have never met anyone whom the world has taken _more_ notice of. You will be my wife and I will love you with every breath until the day I die. _Never_ doubt that you are needed."

He crushed her to his chest, and after a moment, she hugged him back tightly. Selene felt a tear leak from her eye, and she hid her face from him. He was a good man, but she would have traded nearly anything to hear those words from someone else.

**oOo**

Fenris woke at the crack of dawn to someone pounding on his door. He bounded out of bed, pulling on his breeches as he flew down the stairs. It might be Hawke, and he would not miss an opportunity to be there for her if she needed him. He knew he could not make up for what he had done, but he was determined not to fail her again.

He was infinitely disappointed to find Anders standing on the other side of that door. "What do you want?" He growled.

"To be anywhere but here." Anders snapped back.

"I'll be more than happy to help you out with that." Fenris said. He tried to close the door, but the mage stopped him.

"I need a favor."

"Why would I do anything for you?"

"Because it's not for me, it's for Hawke."

Fenris hesitated at that, and let Anders in. "Why didn't she come herself, then?" He asked, suspiciously.

"Because she could give rocks lessons in being hard-headed." Anders studied Fenris' state of undress. "You're not bad looking, elf, but since I absolutely despise you, do you think you could maybe put a shirt on and - I don't know - button your goddamned pants?"

Fenris flushed but did as he was asked, grumbling about uninvited guests. "So Hawke doesn't know you're here. Any particular reason for that? She wouldn't appreciate you sneaking around behind her back."

"Yes, well, I'm more interested in her safety than her appreciation. Before the two of you met, she helped a boy named Feynriel."

"I know of him. They write to each other frequently."

Anders smirked at the jealous tone in the elf's voice, but it faded quickly. This was more important than their rivalry. "Feynriel is a dreamer. He can step in and out of the Fade at will, he can enter anyone's dreams, alter the very fabric of reality, but he is untrained. He has been trapped in the Fade by demons."

That got Fenris' attention. "And she means to free him?" It was a statement, not a question. Hawke would never abandon a friend, even if it meant walking into the lion's mouth.

"She means to go alone, but-"

"That cannot be allowed. I sympathize for the boy, but Hawke cannot walk into a trap set by demons. They would be as happy to get their hands on her as they would Feynriel."

"For once we agree. I have spoken with Marethari, and there is a way to send others into the Fade with her. I am going because I am familiar with the Fade. Also, since my pact with Justice, demons no longer trouble me. I've explained all of this to Varric, and he is coming because he is a dwarf and magic will not flow through him. That leaves room for one more person. You are the last person I would ever ask for anything, but if I made a list of people who would _never_ deal with a demon under any circumstance, your name would be right at the top of the list, second only to Hawke herself."

"And what will Hawke say when she arrives to find us waiting for her?"

"Does it matter? Marethari agreed to help no matter what Hawke wants. I mean to see her survive this, Fenris, even if she hates us for it."

An agonized expression crossed the elf's face and was replaced by grim determination. "When?"

**oOo**

So it was that Anders, Varric, and Fenris followed a _very_ irritated Hawke into the Fade. She had been livid when she learned Anders had gone to Marethari behind her back. Even in the Fade, her palm stung from the slap she had given him; even in the Fade, her face stung from the slap she'd gotten in return from the Keeper, followed by a scathing lecture regarding her arrogance and the dangers of the Fade. None of them seemed to understand that they would be in the way; the world of dreams was that much more dangerous due to her presence.

As Hawke strode through the twisted Templar Hall of the Fade, she tried to stay slightly apart from her friends, to give herself room to fight without hurting them, but they were having none of it. They crowded around her, claiming they did not want to become separated if they were attacked - and they were attacked often. As they searched for Feynriel, demons and shades alike poured out of the shadows, hungry for Hawke's power, and determined to get it any way they could. Justice, Varric, and Fenris formed a tight circle around her, determined not to let a single shade through.

Hawke was frustrated. She knew she should be happy to have friends who cared so much about her, but right now they were in the way. She could handle this assault on her own, but not if she had to worry about them. "Sorry about this, boys." She whispered, and mind-blasted them as hard as she could, sending them flying away from her. She waited for the briefest of moments, allowing her attackers to close in before a tempest of flame burst out of her, instantly incinerating any remaining threat. Her eyes scanned every corner, every shadow in the hall, looking for likely hiding spots. Her friends were climbing groggily to their feet and glaring at her sullenly. Hawke squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. She hadn't wanted to mind blast them any more than she had wanted them to make this journey with her.

"Even you don't belong here any longer, Justice." Hawke said, in a hard voice. "This is not your place. It is mine. Mine and Feynriel's, and the rest of you are in the way. I know you are trying to help and I appreciate that, but I cannot fight the way I need to while you're here. You need to back off. Varric and Fenris, the two of you should never have come in the first place."

"You are a fool if you think any of us would let you walk into danger alone, Hawke." Fenris growled. "You should have expected this."

"I am just trying to keep you all safe. What happens if you get caught in his dream and he perceives you as his enemy? You don't understand that there are rules here. You don't know what you're facing. You are as children here, and now I must protect you as well as Feynriel and myself." Hawke sighed heavily. Maker, she was tired. "Stay close, but if I tell you to fall back, you must give me your word that you will. The spells I am using here are powerful, and I don't want to risk hurting one of you by accident."

"You could've fooled me." Varric grumbled. "My brain feels like pudding."

"That wasn't an accident." Hawke said, not a hint of contrition in her tone. She grudgingly allowed them to circle her once more and they pressed onward.

"You're wrong." Justice said quietly, walking behind her. "I do belong here. This was my place before it ever was yours."

"This was never your place. Why else did you want to escape so badly? You are strong and confident in the mortal realm, but here you are floundering. I am not ungrateful for your assistance, but if this was truly your place, you should be able to handle the demons better than I. Are you not one of the more powerful spirits?"

Justice looked away. "You think you know so much." He said, bitterly.

"By all means, instruct me." Hawke knew she was behaving aggressively, but she couldn't seem to calm herself. She was furious with Anders or Justice or whichever one of them was responsible for bringing Fenris here. Did he not hate mages enough? Was it really necessary to _show_ him what a danger she was to the world? She wondered how much longer before he left her in truth and she never saw him again. She wondered which would be worse - Fenris staying or leaving.

"Your arrogance will get us all killed." Justice said, glowing more brightly, forcing Anders' skin to crack wider.

"Demons sneak in through cracks created by doubt. That is how you got Anders is it not? You preyed upon his weakness."

"I believe in his cause."

"Your pact with him damaged his cause beyond repair." Justice did not respond to that, but Hawke thought she saw a tear fall from the corner of his eye. Her anger fled and she laid a comforting hand on his arm. "Still, now that you are here, there is no one I would rather have fighting by my side. Both of you."

Justice swept Hawke into a tight hug, enveloping her against his broad chest and resting his cheek on the top of her head. "I just want to help you." Justice and Anders spoke as one.

Selene heard a whisper of movement. She wrapped one arm around Justice's waist and threw her other hand up; a white-hot bar of flame exploded from her palm into the shadows, revealing and arcane horror and a small army of shades. Justice looked at Varric over her head and she felt herself being pulled backward as she watched Fenris rush forward into the fray.

"No!" She screamed, breaking free of Varric's grip and freezing the arcane horror before the elf could reach it. They were more dangerous in the Fade, faster, and more clever.

Fenris smashed his shoulder into the horror, shattering it like glass. He had no time to admire their teamwork, however, because something warm and soft surrounded him from head to toe; something that reminded him painfully of Selene's sweet embrace. For a moment he couldn't move, couldn't breathe. He was dimly aware of her shouting for them to fall back, but he did not obey. A hail of fireballs crashed down around him as he strode into the writhing mass of shades, but he did not feel the heat. _Selene_. He raised his sword and the shades shied back. The lyrium in his tattoos seemed to cover his entire body; he was the Lyrium Ghost, nothing could touch him. _Selene._ He would protect her, whether she wanted it or not.

Hawke was frustrated. Everywhere she turned, Fenris was there, hacking at enemies. He took over the battlefield, not letting her fight. She had shielded him to protect him from harm, but that did not make him invincible. Every hit he took depleted her mana a little more, and she was getting tired. She wasn't sure she'd be able to eliminate the shades and keep him safe at the same time. She called his name, and he turned just in time to catch her as she barreled into him, carrying them both to the ground. Her telekinetic blast shredded the remaining shades, and she collapsed against the elf's chest, gasping for breath in her exhaustion.

Fenris wrapped his arms around her and sat up, cradling her against his chest. He dropped his forehead against hers and breathed her in. He had not held her - had barely been allowed to touch her since he'd walked out that night, and he was not eager to let her go. Maker, she'd drained her mana pool protecting him; he didn't think it was possible. His tattoos flared to life and he threaded his fingers through hers, pressing their palms together.

"Draw the lyrium from me, love." He whispered, raggedly.

"It does not work that way in the Fade. The mana must return to my body naturally, else I could dream up a lyrium potion and drink it. I appreciate the offer, though." Her tone was cool and businesslike and she disentangled herself from him, leaning against a wall for support instead. She wanted too much to curl up in his arms and let him comfort her, but it was past time to put such feeling aside. He did not love her and she was engaged to Seamus. She pushed herself up on unsteady legs.

"Hawke, maybe you shouldn't push yourself so hard." Varric said. "There is no shame in resting."

"While I'm resting, demons are pushing Feynriel, and we're running out of time. He is trapped by a desire demon just ahead. We will need to enter their dream. Once we're inside, do not say anything, do not do anything unless I say. _Do not_ speak to the demon. If _any_ of you break these rules, you will sincerely regret it upon waking." She allowed Justice to slip a supporting arm around her waist, and slowly, they made their way to the nightmare Feynriel didn't know he was having.

It was confusing at first. She didn't feel like herself anymore, and there was no sign of her companions - in disguise or otherwise. Across the cozy room the boy Feynriel sat at a desk while that lecher, Vincento, was teaching him his letters and filling his head with lies about her. Rage filled her until she thought she might breathe fire. How _dare_ he! She had lost her _clan_ for him, and he'd only stayed long enough to see her grow fat with his child. _She'd_ taught Feynriel to read and write, _she'd_ praised him for his cleverness, she'd raised him from a babe in a shack in the alienage, working as a laundress and a seamstress-

Hawke's head was spinning as she tried to sort through her emotions. She was Arianni, and Vincento was the desire demon. How to make Feynriel see it? She couldn't simply tell him; he had to learn for himself or he would never survive.

"Why can't I remember you?"

Hawke could have wept with relief when the innocent question popped out of the boy's mouth, giving her the opening she needed. "This is a trick. He wants something from you, Feynriel." _Please let him see the truth. He knows I would never lie to him._ But she was not herself. She was Arianni.

Feynriel squinted his eyes as he looked between her and his father, as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing anymore. She smiled warmly when Vincento's face twisted into a vicious snarl. Demons were not known for their patience.

Feynriel looked hard at his father and backed away from him slowly. "You just left her. You never loved me. You're not my father, you're just a liar."

"Don't…question…me!" Vincento growled in a guttural voice, convulsing unnaturally until everything of the Antivan merchant seemed to shake away and the desire demon stood in his place. Feynriel screamed and ran, leaving Hawke alone with the specter.

"Caress." Hawke said, in cool greeting.

"My, my…It seems the Moon has come out to play. What can I tempt you with today, my love?"

"You know this creature?" Justice asked, stepping up beside her.

"We have…crossed paths. She has a talent for escape." _But not this time._ Hawke didn't know where here friends had come from, but she was suddenly intensely relieved to see them.

"One could say the same of you, my love." She slinked toward Hawke with a predator's grace. She leaned forward, breathing in the mage's scent. "There is something different about you…Something-" Caress looked sharply at Fenris, and a slow smile spread across her face. "You long for him. Oh, my love, I think we can finally help each other. I can give you what you want."

Hawke blushed deeply, but her smile was mocking. "You are too late. The reality didn't measure up to the dream." Everyone flinched at that, Caress included.

"You are cruel. You may have cost me a dreamer, but you will at least provide me a death."

"Staying to fight? How unlike you." She hefted her staff, her heart hammering in her chest. _Don't run, Caress. Don't run, don't run, don't run…_

"I would never run from you, my love. You must know that you are my heart's true desire…But you cannot be tempted, and you are too dangerous to be allowed to walk the Fade any longer. Killing you will be the sweetest torture of my existence."

Fenris watched the exchange between them and felt as if someone had pulled the ground out from under him. The demon's words lashed at him, as did the way she looked at his little mage. He felt sick. That Caress knew her on an intimate level was obvious, but he knew Hawke would never consent to such a thing. He wanted to scream when the demon leaned forward to kiss her, but it was Caress who screamed as she jerked back, clutching her ruined face. Hawke had branded her with her father's staff.

"Bitch!" Caress screamed. "I'm going to-"

They never learned what she was going to do; Fenris stepped forward, and with a brutal swing of his sword, he removed the demon's head from her shoulders. He felt something crash into him then, and almost swung again before he realized it was Hawke. She was pressed against his back, holding him tightly, her hands resting over his heart.

"I'm so sorry, Fenris." She whispered, brokenly. "I didn't mean what I said, I swear it. She had to think…She…_you killed her_. She's gone, she'll-"

"She'll never hurt you again, love." He covered her hands with his, and together, they heaved a shuddering sigh of relief.

"I - thank you."

_I will still protect you, Selene_. The words stuck in his throat as she released him and retreated to a safe distance once again.

"We're getting closer," Hawke addressed them all with fierce determination in her voice. "And there is only one place left to hide."

They entered the next nightmare to find Keeper Marethari delivering a rousing speech to the Dalish about reclaiming forgotten magic and lost history, of reshaping the world and returning the elves to their former glory.

_Fuck._ Hawke thought, wearily. Pride demons were always tricky. Still, she wanted to laugh at the offer. This one didn't start small. "Why would she entrust her people to a human?" She spoke with a man's voice. _Who am I? Orsino…_ The name was a whisper of a whisper in her mind.

"You are one of us, Feynriel. The First Enchanter seeks only to collar you, to bind you away from the rest of the human mages." The Keeper said.

"Could the elves trust you to shape reality? Could you trust yourself? These magics were bound for a reason."

"Don't listen to him, he is trying to keep from realizing your potential."

"Trying to keep me from temptation, you mean, just as the Keeper tried. I see you for what you are, demon. You will not hold me." Feynriel disappeared again.

"You!" The demon raged, turning to Hawke. "Why did you interfere? With my power joined to his, Feynriel would have changed the world!" The pride demon revealed itself.

"There can be no honest deal with a demon." Hawke said, in a hard voice.

"No? You think this slave will choose you over his freedom?"

"Cast your eyes elsewhere, demon. I won my freedom from the magisters long ago." Fenris snarled. Hawke released a vexed sigh. She had told them not to talk to the demons. Now it was going to get messy.

"Yet you fear them still. They have left their marks upon your body and your mind. With my aid, you could be free forever. You could have power enough to challenge any who would chain you."

"If you accept, you're no different from the magisters." Hawke said, noting the speculative look on his face.

'But…to face them as an equal…What would you want from me?"

"Just a moment of your time." The demon purred, and Fenris' eyes glazed. His mind screamed for him to stop, but his body would not obey. Horrified, he turned to Selene, his little mage, and swung his sword as hard as he could. She jumped back, but it was too late. He could feel the tip of his sword slicing through her soft belly. Blood poured from her mouth as she fell to her knees, struggling to keep her insides inside.

"_No!"_ Justice and Anders screamed as one, and flinging up a hand, he blasted Fenris apart, sending him back to the waking world.

Hawke was only vaguely aware of Varric holding her head in his lap and calling frantically for Anders. She held her hands over her stomach, trying to heal herself, but her mana seemed slippery. She couldn't make it do what she wanted. She could feel herself sliding away. It wasn't so bad. It was…Tranquil

**oOo**

Fenris jerked awake, a cold sweat breaking out over his brow. He could smell blood. He could hear the women speaking softly, but urgently.

"She's fading. Arianni, fetch me elf root."

"Can you not heal her, Keeper?" Arianni asked in a tearful voice.

"You know very well that my talents don't run in that direction. Elf root, Arianni, now or she will die. She may have lost too much blood already."

Fenris pushed himself to his feet and felt bile rise in the back of his throat as he stared down at Hawke. She was twitching and gasping for air, but still she slept. Her skin had taken on a deathly pallor and she was covered in blood. Her tunic had been cut away to give the Keeper space to work. The wound was deeper than he'd feared.

"I did this…" He whispered.

Marethari looked at him sharply. "You should not have been able to. You dealt with a demon, yes?"

"To my everlasting shame." Fenris admitted.

"You-?" Arianni dropped the elf root before the Keeper and turned on the warrior. "You_ betrayed_ her!" She screamed, and slapped him, leaving a hand print wet with Hawke's blood. Fenris didn't think he would have stopped her if she tried to drive a knife through his heart.

"Arianni!" The Keeper barked. "There is nothing the boy can do now but help to make it right. I assume that's what you want?" She asked, turning hard eyes on Fenris.

"I'll do anything you ask, just please don't let her die." He whispered, fervently.

"There are no guarantees. The Creators will decide her fate. Take these roots and squeeze the extract over the wound to help slow the bleeding while I make a poultice from the leaves. Arianni, a needle and thread if you please. If the other mage does not wake soon, I will have to stitch her."

As if her words rode wings to the Fade, Anders and Varric opened their eyes. Unfortunately, so did Hawke. She struggled unsuccessfully to grasp her magic, gasping for air and choking on her blood. Fenris continued to squeeze the elf root extract into her laceration until he felt strong hands pulling him roughly away.

"Sweet Andraste, no." Anders whispered, tears streaming unchecked down his face as he knelt over her. The wound was severe, but he could heal it. It was the scar that held his attention. It wrapped around her body, identical to the one on his arm, but on a much larger scale. Alrik…She had lied to him.

Fenris watched helplessly as Anders surrounded Hawke with a healing light, watched as her flesh knit back together and some of the color returned to her cheeks. His shame burned into his bones as the abomination cradled the back of Hawke's head gently, and trickled a small vial of lyrium down her throat. She drank gratefully and sat up, her eyes searching out Arianni, who had just returned with a sewing kit. Varric removed his coat and wrapped it around her in a belated attempt to preserve her modesty.

"Feynriel is safe." She said, weakly. "He is traveling to Tevinter to master his talent. He sends you his love."

"Then he lives?" Arianni gasped. "How can I ever thank you? I would have lost him twice now, if not for you. Truly, you were sent by the Creators themselves."

"I did not think it was possible. Marethari admitted. "You have accomplished a miracle here today."

"I am glad I could help." Hawke sighed, getting unsteadily to her feet and leaning heavily on her staff. "I do not wish to be rude, but I am very tired. If you will please excuse me?" She turned to leave.

"Hawke, I must apologize-" Fenris blurted out, but Justice suddenly stood between them, looming ominously.

"It seems everyone has a price." He thundered. "You will keep your distance."

"Anders, don't." She swayed slightly, and he steadied her with an arm around her shoulders. "Fenris, we will speak later if you wish. Right now I just want to take a bath and get some real sleep."

"Of course." He said, hanging his head.

_Everyone has a price._ Hawke didn't think that was necessarily true, but Anders had given her an idea. She knew who could guard her sleep.

**oOo**

Eighteen hours. Fenris had been drinking for eighteen hours, but the drunk wouldn't seem to catch hold. Empty wine bottles littered his table and he stared blearily into the fire as he ran over the events of the previous evening again and again in his mind. He could still feel the spot where Arianni had slapped him with Hawke's blood on her hands. He touched his cheek, half expecting his fingers to come away red, but he had washed the stain away hours ago. Would that he could wipe away the memory as easily. He rested his elbows on his knees and covered his face with his hands. He had never betrayed anyone so thoroughly in his life. She would never forgive him.

He didn't know he was not alone until he felt gentle fingers pry his hands away from his face. She had said she would come, but Fenris was still shocked to be staring into Hawke's glittering peridot eyes. Her face was still pale, but she looked rested.

"Are you alright?" Her voice was barely a whisper.

Fenris blanched at that. _She_ was asking_ him_? He opened his mouth to apologize, to beg for forgiveness he wasn't sure he wanted and knew he didn't deserve, but the words wouldn't form on his tongue. He shuddered when she reached out to brush away tears he hadn't realized were falling, and grasped her wrist when she flinched away, misreading him. His eyes locked on hers and he slowly trailed his hand down her arm and around her back. She returned his embrace, but it was not enough. He leaned back, lifting her onto his lap, and rested his face in the crook of her neck, breathing in her clean stormy scent.

"I betrayed you." His agonized whisper brushed her collarbone.

"It was not your fault." She said, curling against him and stroking his hair. "The Fade is a place for mages, not people like you or Varric. You should not have been permitted to come."

"I nearly killed you. I almost made you Tranquil."

"I won't lie; it was a close thing, but-"

"I would not have survived you long. I cannot abide it, Hawke. I cannot bear the thought of snuffing out all the love in your heart. I cannot bear it that I hurt you."

"I have suffered worse. I am fine now." _Although sometimes I think Tranquility might not be so bad._ It hurt to hold him this way, but she could not bring herself to let him go. Instead, she forced him to look at her. "Fenris, I cannot think of anyone who would have done any differently in your place."

"Yet the demon didn't manage to influence you. What manner of human are you that you find it so easy to walk away from your revenge?" There was a note of wonder in his voice as he searched her face for some hint of what she was thinking.

"It's not real. I would just be trading one leash for another. A demon will promise many things, and even keep his word, but there is no doubt in my mind who would be the harsher master. I cannot believe I would find solace in a cage of my own making, only regret."

"Would that I had your wisdom. How does a person come by such perfection?"

Hawke smiled at that; the first Fenris had seen in weeks, but it did not reach her eyes. "To be blessed, first you must be cursed. There can be no light without darkness." She said, disentangling herself from him and moving to stand before the fire. "Would you like to smoke?"

Fenris missed the weight of her in his lap and watched her cross the room with longing in his eyes. He had been a fool for throwing her away. She was so casual with him now; their intimacy burned away by his selfishness.

"I came to visit you earlier, but you were not home."

"No, I had gone out in search of sleep." She said, offering him the pipe.

"Did you find it?" He asked as he exhaled.

"Quite a bit of it, in fact." She answered, in pleased tones.

"Who guards you now, Selene? I know it is not Seamus." _Why did you ask her that, idiot? _He cursed himself for alienating her.

"I believe that's one question too many." She said, not unkindly. "I shall take my leave now, Fenris, but if you need anything, you have only to speak it."

_You. I need you, Selene._ But as always, he remained silent and let the darkness consume him.


	17. Chapter 17

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

_Sorry it took me so long to update, but finding the right words proved…difficult._

**WARNING: RAPE, TORTURE, PAIN**

**Dissent**

Anders paced his clinic furiously, his thoughts consumed by Hawke. He had escorted her home from Arianni's, then raced down to the cellar and to his secret room before he vomited his guts out. At first he was angry - she'd lied to him; she said she hadn't been marked. He stopped pacing when Justice went very still in his mind. _You disagree?_ Anders asked him, bitterly.

_**She said she didn't have anything like your mark, and that is true. They might be identical, but they are nothing alike.**_

Anders had to admit that was true. His was a mark of remembrance, but hers - the scope of it - she must have made Alrik furious. The thought of her defiance made him smile, but the thought of the price she'd paid made the bile threaten to rise in his throat again. _Why didn't you tell me?_

_**Why would I? **_Justice demanded. _**Her experience is her own. What business is it of yours?**_

_Because I can help her!_

_**She saw your brand; she knows where it came from. If she wanted our help she'd ask for it.**_

_Then perhaps I should ask her for help and serve both our ends._

_**Do not bring her into this unless you are certain you can win. I would not see her harmed again.**_

_You love her! _Anders could feel Justice's discomfort.

_**I never noticed the comings and goings of mages in the Fade until her. She is the reason I wanted to join with you, to make sure mages would be safe from Templars. No one should have to suffer as she did. But I do not love her. She terrifies me.**_

_Sounds like love to me._

**oOo**

Hawke's heart was in her throat as she stole through the warren of tunnels hiding under Hightown. She moved with purpose despite her nervousness; she suppressed a giggle. How many mages snuck _into_ the Gallows?

She didn't know how she had managed to be accompanied by Fenris, Varric, and Anders yet again; she didn't know how Fenris had even found out. She strongly suspected Anders had something to do with that, but she didn't know why. The two of them were practically incapable of working together on any level until it was time to annoy her. Then they were two peas in a pod. She slowed her step and fell in step beside the elf.

"You don't have to do this." She said, softly.

A muscle in Fenris' haw twitched. He did not look at her. "This man hurt you." His voice was hard.

"I told you before that I would not see Templar blood on your hands. I meant it. I know you support the order."

"Not after this. Never again after this."

His words should have pleased her, but they did not. The kinder he was to her, the colder, more empty she felt inside until she wondered if she would freeze and shatter someday, the way she'd done to countless enemies.

No, that wasn't right. She couldn't deny her feelings when Anders told her about Alrik's "Tranquil Solution," and there had been nothing cold about it. She wished she'd known about Anders' secret entrance into the Gallows years ago. Nothing would have stopped her from seeking him out. The mana danced in her veins, as if sensing that bloody satisfaction was near at hand. She was the predator this time, and she was strong.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the muffled sound of voices. She motioned the others to silent stillness as she strained to hear. She couldn't quite make out the words, but she counted six voices, one she would recognize anywhere. She would never forget the first time she'd heard it.

**oOo**

_She'd gone into the Wilds to collect herbs for potions, and venom if she could get it for old Barlin's poison. A tear fell, silent and unheeded. This was something she would usually do with her father, but never again. The Templars had seen to that, whatever the Knight-Commander said._

_Her thoughts were interrupted by the unusually rhythmic crackling of broken branches. She stood from her work, turning toward the sound just as a boy from one of Lothering's outlying farms burst through the trees. Selene remembered him. Angry and pouty, he'd never liked the Hawkes, although their mothers were fast friends. He was of an age with her, not more than two or three years her senior, yet the panic on his face made him seem younger. He glanced at the dagger in her hand, the elf root dangling from her fingertips._

"_H-Hawke? Oh, thank the Maker!" Desperate hope laced the edge in his voice._

"_Neill?" She backed away, cautiously. "Where did you-?" She cut off as he grabbed her wrist and pulled her along, back the way he came._

"_We were set upon by bandits. My da - he's bad hurt. Please hurry!"_

_She quickened her step at that. Her own father's passing was still raw, and she hoped that perhaps by saving this boy's father, maybe her own wound would begin to heal. Deeper and deeper into the Wilds he pulled her, taking so many twists and turns that she wasn't sure she'd be able to find her way back on her own. He stopped suddenly when they reached a clearing. Wrenching the dagger from her grasp, Neill jerked her forward and flung her to her knees. Hawke looked up to find herself surrounded by Templars. Neill's father was nowhere in sight._

"_Excellent work, boy." The Knight Captain said, stepping forward. His voice was kind and cold at the same time. Selene could feel his eyes roaming over her body, making her feel naked despite several layers of clothing. "And as pretty as you said. There is a promising future for you in the Order, should you choose it."_

_If she used her mind blast, she might be able to buy enough time to run, but when she reached for it, her mana pool was empty. They must have been working together to drain her so quickly. She turned bitter, tear-filled eyes on Neill. "Why? Why have you done this? I wanted to help you!"_

"_You think you're so special. Your magic is a stain upon the world, and you are as disgusting a creature as I have ever known." He aimed a vicious kick to her belly, and she doubled over, gasping for air. Her fingers dug into the frozen earth, wrapping around a rock, and with a wordless roar, she threw herself at Neill, tackling him to the ground and braining him with her meager weapon. The first strike killed the boy, but she hit him again and again until he was no longer recognizable and his blood sprayed in her face. She was only vaguely aware of the other Templars laughing as the Knight Captain pulled her off the dead boy._

"_Spirited, isn't she?" He said. He laughed wickedly when she turned on him, disarming her of the rock easily. Weaponless but not defenseless, Hawke smacked her forehead against his nose, smiling with satisfaction when she heard the cartilage break. The Templar snarled and spit out a mouthful of blood. "You're spirit will break as easily as your body."_

_Hawke laughed in his face. "Yo thpirid bill bweag ath eathilid ath yo bodig." She mocked his broken nosed accent. She didn't have time to dodge the gauntleted fist that crashed into her jaw, sending her spiraling into darkness._

**oOo**

"No! Please, I'll do anything you ask!"

"That's right. Once you're made Tranquil you'll do anything I say." The sound of that kindly cold voice raised the hairs on the back of Hawke's neck. She turned the corner to find a young mage on her knees, sobbing uncontrollably as Alrik stood over her, that sick smile twisting his grandfatherly face. His eyes were void of any warmth, any sign of humanity.

"Lay another finger on that girl and I'll cut it the fuck off!" Hawke's voice rang out clear and proud over the sound of laughing Templars.

Alrik spun with surprise and brightened when his gaze landed on Hawke. There was no mistaking the recognition in his eyes. "Aha! My little innocent! Times I wondered if you escaped or if our body still hung in that shack. I would never have left you, but I had important places to be, and you simply would not wake. I must confess I am happy to see you again. You have ripened nicely. Tell me, was there a child? No? A shame to have such valiant effort wasted. Thoughts of you kept me warm many a lonely night."

Hawke could see Justice breaking through on one side of her, could hear Fenris growling as he eased his sword from its scabbard on the other, but she was far away.

**oOo**

_The light returned to her in slow increments; the pain, however, was much faster. She gingerly explored her mouth with her tongue, looking for loose teeth and wincing when she found a few. She could hear people talking but the sound was muffled, like she was underwater…but that wasn't right. She couldn't breathe underwater, could she? A giggle escaped her at that. She wasn't a fish._

"_Oh ho! She wakes…and laughs! Do you suppose she's mad, Alrik?"_

_Selene heard that well enough. She could only see shadows, and it took her a moment to realize there was a burlap sack over her head. She looked toward the sound of voices, struggling to regain her bearings; she couldn't tell which way was up. She twitched, but her feet met empty air. She couldn't move her arms, and after a bit of twisting, she realized it was because she was hanging by her wrists. A cold sweat broke out over her brow. They weren't taking her to the Circle, then. She was to be their toy. She reached for her magic and found nothing. She hadn't expected anything, but it would have been foolish not to try._

"_You're the one who's mad if you think you can get what you want from me, Templar." She sneered. "I will not play your games." That brought a round of laughter from the Templars, and one shadow moved to stand in front of her. She flinched when she felt strong fingers dig into her cheeks through the rough burlap._

"_She speaks as if she has a choice." The shadow said. Alrik._

_Hawke felt the touch of cold steel against her neck, followed by the soft whisper of tearing fabric. Icy air pebbled her skin; he had cut her robes away. Relieved that they could not see her face, Hawke struggled to take deep, even breaths. _I will not beg. _She told herself. _No matter what they do to me, I will not beg. _Still, she felt a trickle of sweat run down the back of her neck at the sudden silence in the room. She wouldn't have to wait long to test her resolve._

"_Nice." One voice said. Another chuckled, but Hawke cold barely hear over the sound of her heart hammering inside her chest. Boots scuffled around the room and several shadows appeared in front of her. She thought there were four of them in all. She twisted, trying to escape when a cruel hand shot out, kneading her breast and tweaking her nipples painfully. _

_She drew her knees up and kicked out as had as she could, taking the offending Templar in the chest and sending him stumbling back into a wall. She couldn't see the blow to her midsection coming, couldn't shield herself in any way as she was struck again and again across her ribs, belly, and back with a scabbarded great sword. She gritted her teeth against the pain, but a soft grunt would escape her with each blow and a low groan when she felt her ribs break. The assault let up momentarily and she took deep gulping breaths, trying to find room to breathe around her injuries. She winced when the hand gripped her face again._

"_Do you think you will not scream, mage? Do you think you are strong? That this is the worst we can do?" His breath smelled strongly of onions and stale wine, but under that Hawke could smell the lyrium he drank to drain her mana. She sneered in contempt._

"_You drink lyrium because if you did not, I could kill you all with a flick of my wrist. Yet even bound and drained of my power, you fear me. I'm sure you'll get your screams, Templar, but you have not earned them yet. Don't feel badly, though. I'll hang around here until you get it right." If the time had come to shuffle off this mortal coil, fine, but she would not go quietly into that good night. Not for these pigs._

_The other Templars laughed at that, and Ser Onion Breath ripped the sack from her head. "Say that to my face, bitch."_

_It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the light, but she found herself looking at a fresh Templar recruit. He was young, red-faced and snarling. Hawke smiled and spit in his face._

_The world seemed to flash back and red as Onion Breath smashed his fist into her face again and again, until she could hear the orbit around her left eye begin to crack. Her vision swam and that strange watery sound returned to her ears. She managed a weak grin. It would be dark soon. If he kept this up, he would kill her._

"_Enough, Johnny, enough." Ser Alrik's tone was friendly enough, but the other two Templars were quick to restrain Ser Johnny Onion Breath._

"_That fucking bitch-" The Templar spat._

"_Come now, my boy. There are better ways…"_

_Hawke jerked at the sound of Alrik's belt buckle hitting the floor. She tried to twist, to fight when she felt his hand slide between her legs, but her body wouldn't obey her. Her thoughts were slow and fuzzy, as if she had molasses in her head. Blood dripped in her eyes, washing her vision in crimson. A small cry escaped her when he forced one finger inside._

"_A virgin?" Alrik's other hand twisted in her hair and he yanked her head back, leaning over her and pressing her naked body to his icy armor. "I did not know such a thing existed among mages. A rare pleasure, my dear; this will be a first for both of us, although I think I shall enjoy it rather more than you." He pulled her head back farther, until only a trickle of air remained for her to breathe. A ragged gasp was torn from her throat as he spread her legs apart and thrust himself viciously inside her, pushing her hips down until he was sheathed to the hilt. Tears made slow work of washing the blood from her eyes. She felt as though she had been ripped in half. After several short, hard strokes, he withdrew and loosened his hold on her hair just enough to allow her a few shaking sobs._

"_You fare no better." Johnny scoffed._

_Alrik smiled and slammed into her again, ripping a sound from her that was half scream and half whimper. "That's a good girl." He crooned._

**oOo**

Hawke felt a trickle of sweat run down her back. The other Templars were trying to drain her, but Anders, Fenris, and Varric kept them busy. Alrik dispelled her magic as quickly as she could cast it, but she gave him no chance to attack. Instead, he talked to cover his weariness, to goad her into making a mistake.

"You are special to me, you know." He said, dissolving a fireball before it could take off his head. "You're the only mage I never broke. You never begged or pleaded, you defied me every second that I had you. You were so hot and sweet - the tightest little fuck I've ever had. It is tragic that I must kill you now."

Hawke did not respond, but Fenris heard Alrik's words as clearly as if the Templar had been shouting in his ears. The lyrium spread beyond his tattoos as redoubled his efforts against his own opponent. The lad was skilled, but his attention wasn't where it should be; he was still trying to drain Hawke, to help that monster, Alrik. In the back of his mind, Fenris wondered if this man had been there when Hawke was taken. Something of his thoughts must have shown on his face because the Templar fell back, fear written plainly across his features. The elf smiled at his hesitation and smashed the hilt of his sword in his face, then dropped to one knee and cut his off at the waist. Blood rained down on him as he observed the battlefield. More than anything he wanted to go to Hawke, to reach into Alrik's chest and feel his heart burst under his fingers, but the time was not now. There were more Templars to kill.

**oOo**

_It was Johnny's turn again. She'd lost track of how long she'd been hanging there, lost track of how many times they had raped her, cut her, how many beatings she had taken. Lacking the physical strength to fight them any longer, she was slipping in and out of consciousness; she could have sworn it had been one of the others only a moment ago. She supposed it didn't really matter who it was at this point. Her mind had narrowed, and she could only grasp at small things._

_She felt him stiffen against her as his orgasm took him, and her head fell on his shoulder. _Fool._ She thought, slowly. _Doesn't he realize I could rip his throat out from this position? _Something about that seemed significant. _I could rip his throat out! _Hawke gripped the Templar with her thighs as tightly as she could and sank her teeth into the tender flesh of his neck._

_Johnny screamed, fighting to back away, but Hawke did not let go. The coppery taste of blood filled her mouth and she smiled savagely as she felt the flesh begin to tear away. She loosened her legs around him and bit down all the harder as he stumbled back._

"_That's right, scream for me, bitch." She croaked, spitting the chunk of meat she had taken from him back in his face. The Templar clutched the wound in his neck, blood spurting out between his fingers. She laughed weakly; she had torn an artery. Without healing that wound would kill him eventually. _

"_Is that any way to behave?" Alrik's voice was pleasant, but Hawke paled when he moved to stand behind her. "It seems we've been too lenient with you." The burlap sack covered her head once more, and she felt a hand between her shoulders, pushing her face toward the floor until she thought he meant to break her shoulders. "You can make this all go away, you know." He said, running his free hand up along her inner thigh until he was cupping her sex. "You could get away, kill us all." He slid two fingers deep inside her, leaning forward to whisper in her ear. "You know what to do."_

"_I am no blood mage. It would be better for you to kill me, Templar, or you will be the one who screams in the end. There is no magic in the world that can save you from me."_

"_It seems you're the one who needs saving, but no help will ever find you. There is no salvation for mages."_

"_There is no salvation for anyone. Andraste was a delusional tart."_

"_Then I guess it doesn't really matter what I do to you, does it?" Alrik chuckled, ramming his length into her once more. "It doesn't matter how much I hurt you because there is no Void to loom over my conscience. Is that what you believe?" In and out, in and out._

That's what you believe._ Hawke wasn't able to give voice to the thought, however, because Alrik chose that moment to push her forward the extra distance it took to pull her arms out of socket. The cracking sound of her collarbone splintering seemed to drown out her scream. Stars danced in her vision as he drove into her, forcing her bones to grind together in a sickening crunch with each thrust. Consciousness was short-lived._

_It was pain that led her to slumber, and it was pain that woke her again. Not from he shoulder or her collarbone, this was a new pain. A cold burn snaked around her body, stinging her in a way that made her muscles jump and quiver. Her breath came in short, panting gasps. What fresh hell had they invented for her now?_

"_Even in your sleep, it is hard work keeping you drained. You would have grown to be a very powerful mage had you lived." Ser Alrik said, as the sting traveled down her hip, curling around before moving slowly back up and around her back. "You have not cooperated with us, young lady, and you're making us very late to meet some very important people. As much as I've enjoyed our time together - and I have - I fear the time has come to hurry things along a bit. You think we have hurt you, but you will never know pain like this." Hawke flinched when she felt cold steel lay against the soft flesh under her breast, and screamed when Alrik began to slowly peel away narrow ribbons of skin._

**oOo**

"What is it that makes you different, I wonder?" Alrik mused from behind his shield, as Hawke pelted him with razor sharp icicles. "You screamed beautifully when I broke and tore your body, even when I branded you, but I was never able to break your mind, your spirit; you defied me to the last. I've thought about it many times. You could have used blood magic or made a deal with a demon to get free, and you didn't, and I understand that. What I don't understand is this: Did it even occur to you to ask me to stop?"

"That is what you wanted, is it not? The others were content with my screams, but you wanted me to beg. Tell me, Templar, would it have worked?'

Alrik smiled. "You could have tried. Your friend begged right away, and his injuries were far less extensive than yours."

_You wouldn't sound so confident if you bothered to see how many of your men have fallen. _Hawke kept this thought to herself. If he was too foolish to she that he had lost, all the better for her. Desperate men were unpredictable.

Justice was flying into a rage, and for once Anders did not feel compelled to gain control. What the Templar had said was true; it hadn't taken him long to beg for mercy. Then again, it hadn't taken Alrik long to break all of his fingers and strangle his kitten - a ball of white fuzz he had affectionately called Mr. Boots for his orange feet. It was losing the cat that really hurt. He had always kept a cute little kitty nearby. He didn't know why, but even the sight of the species brought him some small comfort, but the Templars had stripped even that away; them and the Wardens.

_**I will kill him!**_ Justice stormed. _**For you, for Hawke, I will burn every last one of them. This will not be allowed to continue.**_

**oOo**

"_If you keep thrashing like that, the cuts won't be clean. Your brand will come out ragged, and I intend this to be my finest work yet, so hold the fuck still!" Alrik ran his fingers down a strip of carved flesh, drawing another scream from Hawke, who twisted and kicked only to find empty air._

"_I'm sorry, am I being difficult?" Hawke panted through clenched teeth._

"_I don't think I'll kill you after all. Perhaps I will take you with me when it's time to move on. I've never given much thought to taking a wife, but I find I am…reluctant to let you go. You will travel with me and be my woman, would you like that? You will be Tranquil, of course, so it doesn't matter what you like." Alrik removed the sack from her head once more, but he did not give her time to respond. "That smart mouth won't help you where you're going."_

_Hawke felt strong arms band around her, bracing her while Alrik pried her mouth open. She gagged as another Templar forced a tube down her throat. Johnny stepped into her vision - the first time she had seen him since she'd bitten him. He was pale and sweaty; his eyes were red-rimmed and glassy. The wound had become infected; he was dying. He smiled thinly, and with shaking hands, he held up a large bottle of lyrium so she could see it. She knew it was futile, but she fought anyway. She only drank a small vial to replenish her mana - an ounce or two at the most. The Templar held well over a gallon._

"_Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink." He rasped. He lacked the strength, however, to lift the jug high enough to pour it in the funnel himself. A hand (she didn't know whose) clamped down over her nose as lyrium flooded her senses. She could feel it racing through her, filling her with light brighter than the sun and just as far away. There was nothing else she could do, so she swallowed and swallowed, desperate in the hope that there would be air at the end._

_When she could breathe again, her head was spinning and strange colors painted the room. She felt giddy as the Templar faces swam before her. A tiny giggle escaped her as she tried to focus on Alrik. The room spun around him like a watery rainbow, and one of his eyes seemed to be sliding down his cheek. Her laugh bounced off the walls, refracting and returning to her ears in a chorus of a thousand giggling Hawkes. Hidden under the chaos, there was a voice whispering frantically in her head; whispering something that seemed important, but she couldn't quite make out what it was._

"_When the wolf gives the command," she mumbled, drunkenly, "the moon will reverse the tide and the abyss will fly up to embrace you in icy arms." Hawke laughed again. She knew she'd spoken, but she couldn't remember the words._

"_Give her the rest." Alrik demanded, and the tube was forced down her throat once more. She didn't fight this time. This time she drank the lyrium joyfully, greedily. It didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered anymore. The pain was gone and she was floating._

_When she woke, she was safe in bed. She covered her head with the blankets and peeked down her nightdress. No bruises, no blood, it had all been a dream. She took a deep breath and cursed her imagination for being so cruel._

"_Mother, it's too early…" She groaned, when she heard soft footsteps enter the room._

"_I am not your mother, child." A rich, booming voice replied. The covers were pulled back to reveal- well, Selene had never seen a demon before, but she was certain that's what this creature was. "I could love you like one, if you would let me. _The Templars still have you. _Still they torture you, violate your body, but you could be safe. I could protect you."_

"_For a price." Hawke growled. Of course it wasn't a dream. She should have seen this coming._

"_For a price." The demon agreed. "There is always a price. Especially for you. You will spend the rest of your life paying the butcher's bill. Let me in, and there is a chance you won't drown in blood."_

"_You would teach me to swim in it instead. Not much of a deal, if you ask me."_

"_I am not greedy. I would happily direct my power to your cause. You want to get out of here and so do I. We can help each other."_

_Hawke reached for her mana and found nothing. How could there be nothing? They had filled her with lyrium, flooded her with it. She should be bursting with spells! She was ready to breathe fire, yet she couldn't summon enough magic to light a candle._

"_It is your wound." The demon said, in a sympathetic voice. "The magic inside you drew me here like a beacon, and here you sit, helpless as a babe. They cut you with mage bane. It doesn't seem like you have a choice."_

"_There is always a choice. I will not give them what they want any more than I will give it to you. They will kill me no matter what happens. I will not sell my soul for them."_

"_You may not sell it, child, but that does not mean they won't tear it away from you. You will not last long here in your condition. Please believe that I have no desire for a puppet. Join with me and you will gain an ally. We will break free. You will survive to see justice done. Do you think you will receive a better offer?"_

"_It is not about finding the right offer. It is not about life and death. It is about right and wrong, and while there is breath left in my body, I will not stray from my path. I will not bargain with eternity."_

_The demon grew angry at this. "So this is your solution? Let them beat you and cut you and fuck you and break your bones, and when they kill you, you can die knowing you stuck to your precious morals?"_

"_That's all we have in the end. Knowing whether or not you did the right thing. I will not become ammunition for the Chantry to persecute mages. Better a righteous death than a bitter existence proving the Templars right. Leave me, demon, or kill me, but know that you will never have me. Ever."_

"_If I leave you now, others will come in my place. They will not be as kind as I have been. Join with me, and I promise you'll be happy."_

_Hawke laughed at that. "That you would make such a bold promise tells me how little you know about happiness. That is why you are a demon and not a human. I suggest you learn to live with that. Do what you will, but stop grating my ears with your prattle."_

_The demon looked at her sadly and faded away, taking the comfortable illusion of her bedroom with him. Hawke looked around. She was alone in a desolate wasteland of dry dust and corrupted trees; twisted, bent, and sickly. The wind wailed around her, sounding faintly human. Naked now, her wounds had returned, and so had her pain. She pushed herself up on unsteady legs and hobbled a few steps before collapsing again._

"_You really should have listened to Justice." A silky smooth voice drawled. "He was a spirit, not a demon, and he really did want to help you. Do you hear that sound? Like someone crying? That sound echoes through the farthest reaches of the Fade. You are creating that sound, my love, in the waking world. Justice did not lie. Those men still have you. Perhaps I should say they are still having you. Would you like to see what they are doing to you right now? It is very unpleasant."_

"_I've seen it. I wasn't aware demons liked to talk so much."_

"_We get bored. Not much for stimulation around here. I am Caress."_

"_You don't look like the other one." Hawke observed. Justice had been a creature of light and energy, almost blinding to look at and nearly impossible to discern any form except to be left with a distinct impression of maleness. Caress was more than easy to see. She was on display. She appeared before Hawke naked and proud, as cruel and corrupted as the Fade itself. _

"_Let's get you up and we can talk about that, if you like." Caress said, helping Hawke to her feet. She lacked the strength to stand on her own, so the demon wrapped an arm around her waist and cradled the back of her head with the other. "You see, Justice was a spirit of…well, justice. That's not really my area of expertise." She arched her hips against Hawke's, pressed her small, pert breasts against Hawke's larger round globes, and brushed her lips against the column of Hawke's throat. The pain began to fade little by little as Caress began to weave her spell. "I am a desire demon. It feels so good to hold you like this. I can erase your pain. I can make you feel good, too. As good as you're going to make me feel."_

_Hawke stiffened when the demon covered her mouth in a soft kiss. The pain was gone now, but her heart was pounding and it was becoming difficult to catch her breath. She struggled feebly in the demon's embrace. The pain had gone, but her strength had not returned. She sagged instead, hoping the demon would drop her. Caress read this as surrender, and lowered her gently to the ground, tracing her lips with a tongue that was surprisingly rough. Hawke whimpered when she felt a long-fingered hand gently kneading her breast, her thighs forced apart by the demon's legs as she settled herself between._

"_No, you cannot-" Hawke protested, fighting to back away, a nearly futile effort with a broken shoulder and collarbone._

"_It's alright, my love." Caress murmured, nuzzling Hawke's neck. "Give yourself to me and I'll take you to places you've never dreamed of. Together, we will climb to heights you never thought possible." Selene gasped when she felt something hot and hard slide deep into her. Caress sighed, rolling her hips against Hawke's again and again. _

"_But you're female-"_

_Caress laughed throatily. "We are in the Fade. I am whatever I want to be. I rather enjoy being a woman, but men have certain-advantages." She thrust a little deeper, moved a little faster._

_It didn't hurt. It wasn't like with Alrik. She felt as though they had been made to fit together. She had to stifle a moan as Caress reached down between their joined bodies to stroke the little nub of flesh hidden between her legs. Shame and loathing crashed over her has she arched up to meet the demon's thrusting hips._

"_There, now. That's not so bad, is it? All you have to do is let me in." Caress sighed._

"_The Templars left me my pain to fuel my hate. You would ravage my mind as well as my body. I would run to Alrik in a heartbeat rather than endure your presence another minute. He, at least, does not pretend to be my friend. What you have done is much worse." Hawke felt a moment of fear as the demon hovered over her, shaking with rage._

"_You dare!" She hissed. "You little fool, did you think I could only bring you pleasure? I will prove that Templar a saint!"_

_The pain of her injuries slammed home and she fought for breath as Caress's hands closed around her throat. Selene bucked her hips, trying to roll her off, but the demon only plunged into her deeper, harder, smiling down at her with pointed teeth and wild eyes._

"_If I squeeze a little harder, you will be Tranquil." With talon-like fingernails, Caress raked deep furrows of flesh from Hawke's body, then gripped her broken collar, piercing the skin and crushing the bone. Selene remained silent, but the cry on the wind grew louder. "You will be less than nothing if you don't ask me to stop. Invite me in, and this can all go away. You don't have to hurt anymore."_

You're more like him than you think. _She tried to voice the thought, but her mouth wouldn't form the words. Darkness was creeping around the edges of her vision. Her thoughts seemed to echo, and she heard a gravelly whisper on the wind. "I am maiden, mother, and crone, forever waxing and waning, forever changing, surviving. Surrounded by darkness I rise to light the path, and the wicked shall tremble in my wake."_

_The demon stilled her vile ministrations and stared down at Hawke, incredulous. "What did you just say to me? Where are you going?"_

I am whatever I want to be._ She had no mouth to speak, no body to feel pain. She was fading, breaking apart into tiny molecules and floating away on the breeze. Caress screamed with rage as Selene flew higher and higher into the night sky to mingle among the stars. Other demons would find her; she had no doubt of it, but for now she was safe._

**oOo**

_She was surprised she woke up. She was surprised she was able to feel surprised. Her left eye had swollen completely shut, and she could only open the right enough to let in a blurry slit of light. Her head lolled as she tried to look around. Only shadows. They had pulled the bag over her head again. She could not hear the Templars anymore. She was alone. Her mind raced. She didn't know where they had gone, or why, and she didn't care. She may not have much time, and precious seconds were escaping her._

_Magic was still beyond her, and it would be until she could find aid. Hawke's hands fumbled blindly for the rope she was suspended from. She picked at the knots until her fingertips were slippery with blood, but she was unable to move her hands enough to make any progress. Instead, she rubbed and twisted her wrists against her restraints, opening scabs and blisters that had healed over. When she had bled enough to wriggle her wrists with ease, she grasped the suspension rope. Using her good arm, she pulled herself up a few inches, and then let herself drop. A muted scream escaped through her clenched teeth as pain lanced through her broken shoulder and collar, shooting up her arm and making her fingers dance and twitch. Hope swelled in her heart. The effort had cost her, but the rope had given slightly. It wasn't enough to break free, though. _

_Taking a deep breath, she hoisted herself up again, a little higher this time, and when she let go she heard an excruciating crack before the floor rushed up to meet her. She didn't care about her newly broken wrists, didn't care about her broken shoulder as it was flattened against the hard wood floor. The pain of the mage bane brand was blinding. Hawke rolled to her side, taking in huge gulps of air and trying not to vomit. She spied a bloodstained tunic in the corner. Forcing herself to her feet, she wrapped the shirt around herself with difficulty._

_Praying the Templars weren't coming back, Selene did the only thing she could think of. She ran._

**oOo**

"You had better kill me soon, sweetheart; you're running out of mana. And when I've drained you dry, where will you be then? Right back where you started all those years ago." Alrik did nothing to hide his pleasure at the thought.

It was true. Alrik's men were down, but they had drained her too much, she had cast her spells too recklessly. She was running on empty. Even attacks from her staff were weakening, and more and more time was passing between spells. Hawke decided it was time to close the distance between them and remind the Templar that magic was not the only weapon available to her. Malcolm's Honor served as an excellent quarterstaff.

Spinning behind him to avoid his shield bash, Hawke slammed the butt of her staff up hard between his legs, sending him to his knees. She swung her staff around to crash into his temple, but he dodged at the last second, throwing himself to the ground. Cursing, Alrik kicked her legs out from under her. He was on her in a second, tangling his fist in her hair and hauling her to her feet. Hawke struggled and fought, but the Templar held fast, hacking through her father's staff with his sword when she tried again to crack his skull.

"It seems I've broken your weapon." Alrik mocked. "You are as helpless now as the day I met you."

"Do you really think I need that to kill you?" Hawke sneered, but a fat tear rolled down her face.

Varric had never understood the Berserker rage the warriors of Orzammar were always going on about until that very moment. The Templar thought he'd won. His men were dead and he was surrounded, but none of that mattered because he held Hawke.

He'd known. He'd known someone had hurt her, and for the first time in his life, Varric regretted having his curiosity satisfied. She was lover, sister, partner to them, and they were all jealous guardians of her. Alrik was a fool if he thought he could escape, even with Hawke as his hostage - especially with Hawke as his hostage. Varric glanced at his companions and knew with unshakable certainty that their minds were one. As much s each of them wanted to be the one to do it, this was Hawke's kill.

Varric fired a pinning shot that took Alrik just below the knee. The Templar screamed and released Hawke to clutch at the arrow. Anders or Justice or whoever healed a long gash in Fenris' side as the elf streaked forward to pull Hawke to safety.

Fear made a slow crawl across the Templar's face. He was beginning to realize that he was lost. Varric and Anders kept Alrik in their sights as Fenris made casual work of removing his gauntlets. Stepping up behind Hawke, the elf wrapped gentle fingers loosely around her neck. Caressing her soft skin with his fingertips, Fenris illuminated his tattoos, feeding his lyrium to Selene.

"Kill him horribly." He commanded softly into her ear.

"No, please-!" The Templar cried.

Hawke smiled then, beautiful and terrible, as wave after wave of icy spikes burst from the earth, tearing through armor and flesh with equal ease as the impaled the Templar. Again and again, she broke ground with her icicles until nothing remained of Ser Alrik but a red smear and a few scraps of armor.

Hawke stared, wide eyed and trembling at what she had done. She staggered a few steps before she fell to her knees, breathing deeply, as though she had never truly tasted fresh air before today. Her eyes drifted closed when Fenris reached down to stroke her hair. "I never really believed I would get the chance-"

"_**They will die! I will have every last Templar for these abuses!" **_Justice had taken control, and he was in a rage.

Fenris helped Hawke to stand on shaking legs. "I may need to draw more lyrium from you." She whispered, grasping his hand. "Don't let go."

"Get away from me, demon!" The young mage cried, when Justice advanced upon her menacingly.

"Anders, stop!" Hawke's shout bounced off the walls of the cage, echoing in the silence she had created. "This girl is the reason we're fighting. Don't turn on her now. Did you tell the truth when you said you wanted to help mages, or are you only a demon disguised by virtue?" For a moment, she didn't think she was getting through to him. The cracks in his skin were growing brighter, wider, and a dark shadow swirled around him. She gripped Fenris' hand hard, afraid that after all this, she would now have to kill her friend.

Fenris gave her a comforting squeeze back. "If you cannot do this-"

Hawke shook her head, readying a powerful orb of spirit energy in her hand. "Please, Justice," she whispered. "Don't make me do this…"

He couldn't hear her, but the light went out of him all the same as Anders finally seized control. He looked back and forth between Hawke and the Circle mage with stricken, tear-filled eyes. "Maker, no!" He cried. "I almost - If you hadn't been here-" He couldn't seem to face them any longer. He turned and ran.

"I have heard of you. You are Hawke." The mage wore a rapturous expression, as though she was in the presence of a god. "Thank you so much for saving me."

Selene reached out to take the girl's hand, but she felt like she was falling farther and farther forward until the world was spinning around and Fenris' concerned face loomed over her. Then she fell asleep.

**oOo**

Seamus had taken to waiting with Leandra for Hawke to return from her missions. It was worrisome work, made less so by companionship. They would chat quietly with forced optimism, yet inwardly they both prayed for her safety, both feared that this would be the time she would not return. So when Varric and Anders stormed in with Fenris carrying a bloodstained and unconscious Selene, Leandra leapt to her feet, clutching Seamus' arm.

"_No no no no no no no…" _She chanted, as the blood drained from her face.

"Selene…" Seamus choked, stepping forward. The elf tightened his grip on her and looked at him with open hostility.

"She sleeps." Anders assured them. "We ran afoul of a little trouble. The blood is not hers."

"I will put her to bed, then." Seamus offered to carry her upstairs, but Fenris wouldn't allow it.

"I know that way." He growled, stalking past the boy.

Seamus meant to follow, but stopped when Varric laid a hand on his arm. "Better to wait here for now."

"She is going to be my wife." He protested.

"All the more reason to give them this time together." He said, gently.

Seamus looked down at the dwarf. "That's fucked, Varric." He said, chasing after the elf. He didn't know what he expected to find when he entered Selene's bedchamber, but it was not the sight that greeted him.

Selene was abed, sleeping still. Fenris had pulled the blankets up to her chin, and now sat in a chair beside the bed, seemingly mesmerized by the glass dagger in his hands. Hawke's dagger. She never used it that Seamus could see, but it was clearly significant to her in some way.

"Did you give that to her?" Seamus cursed himself. He did not want to talk to this man, did not want to know him.

Fenris smiled sardonically. She had not shared anything of herself with this boy. "She gave it to me once. It is a heavy thing to bear, but I would pay any cost to carry it for her again."

"It is my understanding that you were not worth the faith she placed in you." He said, stiffly. "I cannot hate you for that. Your foolishness is my fortune."

"She will never give this to you. You do not even know what it is. She is only an ornament to you. You don't know anything about her."

"I have the rest of my life to learn. Whatever passed between the two of you is exactly that. Past. You left her, Fenris. Why can't you leave her alone? She doesn't need you."

Before Seamus could blink, Fenris was on his feet and looming over him. "Hawke needs someone who can protect her, not a sniveling rich boy with a gilded cage. Have a care with what your tongue touches, or the end of your life might lurk around the next corner." He cursed, and stormed from the room before he could make good on his promise.

Seamus spun, outraged when he heard Varric chuckling softly from the doorway. "What's so funny?" He demanded.

"You've grabbed the wolf by the tail now, boy. There's just one problem."

"Oh yeah, what's that?"

"Eventually, you'll have to let go."

**oOo**

Fenris wasn't sure how long he'd been walking - hours now; the world balanced on that thin line between light and shadow. Fury burned like acid in his blood, but he could not decide if he was angry with Seamus or himself. He hated the boy, but that didn't stop him from being right. He hadn't been worth the faith Hawke had place in him. He'd been selfish and foolish, and it was too late to change it.

So why didn't he leave her alone? Quite simply, he couldn't. She filled his thoughts, filled his senses. She had completely consumed him. She haunted his dreams with what he had given up. These weeks without her had turned his world stale and grey. He had created this punishment for himself. He knew he should move on, perhaps seek out Danarius and leave Hawke to live her life, but the thought of never seeing her again - it was more than a man could bear.

He stopped walking when he ran out of terrain. The ocean stretched and yawned before him, threatening him lazily with its jagged rocky teeth. Fenris looked around; he hadn't realized he'd been wandering toward the place where Hawke came to play, to think. She wasn't here now, though, and without her shining presence, this was just another spot along the Coast.

He kept walking, wandering down a winding path to a small stretch of beach. He stopped, not leaving the dark cover of the trees. Someone had come here before him. A woman was wading thigh deep, staring out over the deep and endless ocean. She wore only her smallclothes - a dark camisole and flimsy panties; her dark hair was short and shaggy, sticking out at odd angles. Guilt stabbed him when he realized he was admiring her shape. What was wrong with him? His head was not so easily turned. It was past time to be home.

He turned to leave, but was distracted by a strange light. The girl in the water had wrapped her hands around herself, a blue glow seeping from her fingertips and spreading slowly over her body. Fenris tensed, waiting to see what the mage would do. Her spell swirled around her until it took a definite shape, a shape that had been burned into his memory, and re-illustrated for him again today. _Selene._

He lurched forward before he could stop himself. If he were honest with himself, he would admit that there was nothing that could have kept him from her. By the time he reached a dagger and a pile of her hair, Hawke was glowing as bright as day. She did not notice him as he entered the water, didn't seem to hear him striding toward her. He had to shield his eyes now; she had poured all of her power, all of her knowledge of healing into her scar. The more brightly she glowed, the more certain Fenris became that it wasn't working. She would carry that mark forever.

"Selene, stop." He said, gently turning her to face him. She let go of her spell, casting them in darkness once more. Staring up at him with wild eyes, she rested one hand on his bicep and the other against his chest. Fenris gasped as his tattoos flared to life without his permission. She drew deeply from him, enough to replenish her own store of magic and more. Deeper and deeper she pulled from him until she couldn't hold any more, but she did not drain him. She trickled healing magic back into him, drawing more lyrium to replace what she was using. This was not like the healing he'd grown used to on the battlefield. Thin ribbons of spirit curled around her spell, racing through his brand, coaxing a brighter light from him; a different light that belonged only to Selene.

He could feel her inside him, in his blood, his breath, like the night they'd made love, but this was…more. He could see inside her, could feel her pain, her sense of loss, her elation over finally having killed Alrik. More than that, he could feel the shining purity of her heart, the light that guided her - all of them - through the dark and twisting path ahead. He could see himself in her mind's eye; feel what she felt for him. It was warm and comforting, swelling until it seemed it must burst, but instead was pierced and contained by cold barbed wire that reminded him painfully of his tattoos.

It was too much. He grasped her wrists, and the light went out. Fenris stared down at her for a moment, breathing hard. "You must never do that to me again," He grated. "Or do it every day for the rest of my life."

"I'm sorry it didn't work." She whispered, brokenly.

"I don't care." He covered her mouth with his. Her lips parted in surprise and his tongue slipped inside to meet hers almost shyly. He purred when she leaned into his kiss and tilted her head back, granting him better access to her sweet mouth. Maker, he had been starving for her. He knew he could never leave her, never let her go. She stiffened when his hard arousal brushed against her belly, and he silently cursed himself for going too fast.

"Fenris, we cannot do this." Her voice was miserable.

"Why not?" He demanded, knowing the answer, fearing it.

"I cannot be unfaithful to Seamus."

"Do not tell me you love that boy." Fenris whispered harshly, agony staining his face.

"I do not, but he fancies himself in love with me, and he does not deserve to be hurt this way." She held up a hand when he opened his mouth to argue. "Fenris, you've never trusted anyone in your life. You've never had anyone you _could_ trust."

"Until you." He interrupted.

"Until me. So tell me this: would you ever look at me the same way if you knew I was able to break a man's heart to serve my own ends? Would you still trust me then, or would you always carry with you that seed of doubt. What would it take to turn me from you? You would ask yourself that question eventually."

Fenris smiled down at her tenderly, sadly. He had known. Hawke always did the right thing. He loved her all the more for it, but he found himself wishing that just once, she wouldn't be so damned perfect.


	18. Chapter 18

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

_Series of one-shots. Fenris finds out where Hawke has been sleeping. Hawke gets a gift._

**Chocolate**

"Did you get it?" Fenris asked.

"It wasn't cheap." Varric said, handing him the package. "Cost nearly everything you gave me."

"Then it was cheaper than I expected."

**oOo**

"You cut your hair." Anders cringed inside. That was hardly the first thing he should be saying to her.

**Are you alright **_**or **_**Thank you for helping us**_** might be better. **_Justice agreed.

Hawke cocked her head to the side, studying Anders in that way that made him feel like she could hear Justice muttering in the back of his mind. "Hair is a weapon that can be used against me." She said, quietly. "I might have gotten away, but he caught me by the hair."

"I rather enjoyed the way you killed him. It was faster than I would have done, but effective, and particularly brutal."

"Are you alright?" She asked him. "We didn't get a chance to talk after-"

Anders rolled his eyes. "How can you ask me that? How can you even think of my welfare after what I almost did to that girl, the way I lost control? You should be killing me right now, at the very least, shouting. How can you be do calm?"

"Alrik broke my father's staff. I could certainly kill you without it, but it wouldn't be the same. Do you really want me to shout at you?"

"Not really. Sort of."

It was Hawke's turn to roll her eyes. "It looks like Alirk's 'Tranquil Solution' began and ended with him." She said, handing him a sheaf of papers, including two letters from Meredith and the Grand Cleric rejecting the idea. "We need to talk."

_So this is how it's going to be. _Justice and Anders thought as one when Hawke pulled her pipe from her belt pouch. He almost winced when she took a long drag, regarding him silently, emotionlessly.

"The most important thing," she began, exhaling, "is that you are alright. You never answered me."

"I am fine. My conscience plagues me, but I deserve that much. I am sorry, Hawke. That is not enough, but it is all I have. When he caught you, when he thought he'd won - Justice took over then, and I confess I did nothing to stop him. After everything he'd done to you, to me, and then he dared lay hands on you again - it was too much. We all felt it."

"It would have been a quick death this time."

"Is that your way of thinking positively?" He was outraged.

"Just thinking out loud. I know what it is to succumb to anger." Hawke thought briefly, almost fondly of the night Carver had taken her athame and started carrying it on his belt.

Anders arched an eyebrow at her. "You? You have ice in your veins, Hawke. When have you succumbed to _any_ emotion?"

"I have feelings, the same as you or anyone-"

"No, it is not the same." He interrupted, his voice growing heated. "You are not the same as other people, Hawke, and you have to stop pretending to be."

She bristled at that. "Then what am I, _Anders_, if you know so much? I'm different because I don't wear my heart on my sleeve? Or is it because I've never resorted to blood magic or becoming an abomination like nearly _every other_ mage I've met since coming to Kirkwall? How should I behave? Should I pretend to be better than everyone else? Pretend I'm not a human being who makes mistakes?" She realized she was ranting and hit the pipe again to calm herself. "I am just a person. I am no different from you or Aveline or Isabella."

"You are even different from your father. Malcolm Hawke was a good man, anyone could see it, but he was a candle beside the sun. You didn't just come to Kirkwall as a refugee. You were sent here to lead Kirkwall out from under this shadow of oppression."

"We are talking about you. And Justice. You are becoming withdrawn, Anders. You are growing bitter. You are losing yourself, losing control. Nobody understands your hatred for the Templars better than I, but by giving in to that rage, you nearly killed the very person we were trying to protect. You have to be stronger. You have to be stronger than him."

"I am trying. Sometimes I fear I cannot do this. Not while I struggle with this vengeance inside me. But I know you will not let me lose myself to him. You are my touchstone, Hawke. My anchor in this world. You are what the mages of Kirkwall need. They want what you have. You are the best and brightest of us. Just knowing you exist is enough to light the fire."

Hawke sighed heavily. "Sometimes I think I am making it worse for the Circle mages. You and I have Meredith gnashing her teeth, and she comes down harder on the mages she can reach. I see her agents everywhere. She does not have enough evidence to arrest us, or I would be Tranquil and you would be dead. Do you think that does not affect the quality of life within the Gallows? Prison is prison, but if you had to choose, tell me you wouldn't go back to the Circle in Ferelden."

"I would die before I allowed anyone to cage me again."

"Sometimes I wish I could go to the Circle; change things from the inside. I could do much more for mages if I was with them."

"Do not even think it, Hawke. Maybe they would not break you, but they could lock you away so you could never help anyone. You don't know how lucky you are."

I do know, but I also know that you have a romanticized view of what my life must have been like in Lothering. It wasn't all magic lessons taught by a loving father. We never knew if we were safe. We could never stay anywhere every long. We had to keep bags packed in case we had to flee in the night. We had to leave everything behind and start over in different towns with different names. It wasn't freedom, Anders. All the world was a cage. We can never escape who we are."

"I know that you are right, but the knowing does not make it easier."

Hawke grasped his hand firmly, warmly. "Together, we will win this fight."

"I have been meaning to talk to you about something as well if I may." He did not wait for her permission. "You fainted after the battle. This is not the first time. You are pushing yourself too hard. You cannot rely on your magic to sustain you. Alrik cold never have drained you so easily had you been rested. You need sleep, Hawke. Healthy, natural sleep every day."

"That is not possible." She sighed, hitting her pipe again. The tension began to go out of her shoulders, and she studied to floor with heavy-lidded eyes. "Not every day."

"Do you sleep even once a week? When was the last time you go eight hours? You cannot go on like this. You _will_ rest, or I will sneak into your home and knock you out myself if I think you need it. I mean what I say. Even now you look exhausted. Sleep, Hawke. Tonight."

"I promise to try."

"I will know if you do not."

**oOo**

Fenris paced his mansion furiously. _I cannot be unfaithful to Seamus._ That's what she'd told him, but he'd gotten a message an hour ago containing three little words that sent him spiraling into a rage. _The Blooming Rose._ His little mage was at the Blooming Rose. He crumpled the not in his hand for the thirtieth time. _It is a mistake._ But he knew it was not. His watchers were careful. He took a deep breath. He didn't know what he was going to do when he got to the Rose, but nothing could stop him from strapping himself in his armor and storming out.

**oOo**

"I am sorry, Mistress Hawke, but Jethann is available by appointment only, as you know very well. I will be happy to mark your name in the books, but he is simply too popular to be requested on a whim."

"A moment, if you please, Madame Lusene." A smooth voice called from the stairs. Jethann slinked down and wrapped a loose arm around Hawke's waist. "Exceptions can always be made. I will be cancelling the remainder of my appointments for the evening. Hawke is a very special, very well-paying client, and her name is _never_ to be marked in the books, as _you_ know very well." The elf looked at Madame Lusene with open hostility shining in his sapphire eyes, and Hawke wondered who really ran this place.

"If you didn't make me so much money…It is not good for business to fall in love with the clients." She growled. "Do not make a habit of this, Mistress Hawke."

"You will be more than compensated, Madame." Hawke assured her.

"Come, my love," Jethann murmured, drawing her hand to his lips. "I never know if I want to lead you up the stairs like a blushing virgin, or let you go ahead so I can watch your hips sway. You have a lovely walk, Selene."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that." She said, turning faintly pink.

He smiled, deciding to lead the way after all. "You cannot blame a man for trying. You have no idea how frustrating it is to have you in my bed, never to know your touch."

"I thought you would enjoy the time to rest."

"I want other women to let me rest, not you."

Hawke rolled her eyes. _This again._ "I'm just another woman. You only want me because you've never had me. You're just curious."

"No, Hawke." He insisted, pulling her into the room and pressing her against the door. "With you it would be different." Hawke gasped quietly, painfully. She had heard those words before, from another elf who brushed his lips softly against her neck the way Jethann was doing now. "Lay with me tonight, and I promise you'll never have to pay for another visit. I promise you will be pleased. I am popular because I am skilled."

He tried to kiss her, but Hawke turned her face away and slipped easily from his embrace. Jethann liked to flirt and touch, but he would never try to force her to anything. The idea was abhorrent to him. That did not stop him from watching her with hungry eyes as she moved behind a privacy screen to prepare for bed. A lot of things happened in the Blooming Rose, but he was willing to bet none of the other hosts had an arrangement as strange as his. He doubted very much that anyone had ever paid the Blooming Rose to sleep.

Hawke came out from behind the screen wearing a man's shirt that fell mid-thigh. Forest green with billowy sleeves, she was beautiful in it, looking decidedly pixie-like with her tilted green eyes and thick auburn hair that wouldn't lay down, no matter how she combed it. Jethann wondered jealously how she would look in one of his shirts. It would be smaller than the once she wore, but in his opinion, that was all to the good.

"I need to see you more often if that is possible, Jethann." She said quietly, setting her athame carefully on the nightstand. The elf didn't like to touch it if he didn't have to.

Jethann rested a hand over his head and flashed her his best grin. "Why, Hawke, could it be that you're falling in love with me after all?"

She laughed softly as she climbed into the big bed. "My friends insist that I need more sleep. One in particular has resorted to threats."

The elf stared at her, nonplussed. "Do - do you mean to tell me that you _only_ sleep when you come to see me? Hawke, I haven't seen you in nearly two weeks! I thought I was a stand-in for someone else."

"You are a busy man, and sleep is a luxury I can rarely afford. Still, if you can make time for me once a week, that was my previous arrangement." Her tone was kind, but the look on her face told him in no uncertain terms that she was through discussing it.

"Nothing would please me more, sweetheart." Jethann sighed and dropped a kiss in her hair. He meant it. He eagerly awaited her messages, and was pleased he could finally see her with some regularity.

**oOo**

Jethann was dozing in his chair next to the bed, but was startled awake when he heard shouts from the main hall. He did not usually trouble himself with these kinds of outbursts, but he strongly suspected this one was directly related to him and his relationship with Hawke. He had grown accustomed to threats from jilted husbands and lovers, but if he knew anything about Hawke's fiancé, Seamus was not the man creating a scene downstairs. No, this was the other one. Fenris. He'd met him once before, the first time he'd propositioned Hawke. He'd thought the warrior would tear his arms off. His very presence was menacing, and Jethann was not eager to face him, but neither would he allow him to disturb Hawke's sleep.

"Serah, only paying customers are allowed upstairs! You must leave at once!" Jethann slipped from the room at the sound of Madame Lusene's shrieking. If Quintus or Harlan got involved, things would get ugly.

Fenris was climbing the steps when the motion caught his attention. He froze Jethann with a stormy green glare. "You!" He growled. "How long has she been coming to see you?"

"I fail to see how that's any concern of yours." He said, lazily leaning against the door.

"I am concerned, nonetheless. How long, Jethann? I am reluctant to hurt a friend of Hawke's, but I will if you do not answer me. I will enjoy it."

"What is it you really want to know, Fenris? Am I fucking your sweet little mage? Sadly no, but not for lack of effort on my part."

"You will not talk about her that way. She does not belong here; she is too good for this place. Still, I suppose it is well-suited to her needs."

Jethann relaxed a little. This one was more reasonable than he'd thought. "Drinks? I have an adjoining chamber where we can speak further, if you wish."

Fenris eyed him suspiciously for a moment, but followed him into the room. Hawke was tiny in the huge four-poster bed. One leg, long and slim and bare peeked out from under the blankets, and Fenris shot Jethann a scathing look, but he could not fail to notice that the shirt she slept in was his. He wasn't sure if he should smile or weep. He wanted to do both.

"Why are you here, Fenris?" Jethann asked candidly, pouring them each a glass of wine. "There is no reason for you to care what Hawke does or who she does it with. Seamus should be here right now, not you."

"Seamus is a child in a man's body." Fenris scoffed.

"You say that with such contempt, yet I suspect it is the 'man's body' part that concerns you. Still, you haven't said why. Why do you care? I have heard rumors that you spent the night together once, but Hawke rarely speaks of her personal life. They say you left her. That you used her up and left her. Is that true?" A cold light had frosted over the elf's blue eyes.

"You're missing a few details, but yes, we were lovers, and yes, I left her. I was foolish and cowardly, and it is too late to change it now."

"You sound as though you've given this explanation many times." Jethann mused, unsympathetically. "Why leave her if you cannot bring yourself to actually leave?"

Fenris looked away, haunted. "We all ask so much from her; everyone who meets her wants something, and she'll work herself to death trying to give it to them. Even me. When I first learned she was a mage, I wanted to run and never look back. I stayed because she was powerful, powerful enough to stop the man chasing me, but then I learned that she was also good, and then I learned that she was alone. Everyone thinks she's so strong, but she needs someone to protect her, someone she can be vulnerable with."

"What makes you think she doesn't have that now?" He asked, over the rim of his wine cup.

"If she did, she would not need to come here."

"Do you think not? I am here, so this is where she comes to be vulnerable, to be protected. Your…services are no longer required."

"You are no protector. She pays you to be here. She does not wish to trouble her real friends, so she came to you knowing that you'll do anything for a price."

"Or maybe she's here because I am honest. I do have a price, it's true, but I told her that from the start. As long as she's willing to pay, I'm willing to guard her with that filthy dagger she carries. I would sooner plunge it into my own heart than scratch her with it, but she's the boss."

"And you have no qualms about taking her gold in exchange for her life?"

"I have tried to convince her that there are…other ways she can pay for my time. I do not need her gold."

Fenris cursed when his glass shattered in his hand. "You will not lay a finger on her." He growled. He embraced the burn of his tattoos illuminating. One more word and he would strangle Jethann with his own intestines.

"I will not touch her." The elf assured him. "Not until she asks, and I have no doubt she will. Many women have lost their hearts to me over the years. It is only a matter of time. I must confess I am in danger of falling for her as well. No woman has ever felt so…right…in my arms. She feels good. I know it is horrible, but when she wakes up shaking and terrified, it makes me feel strong to be the one to soothe her back to sleep. She is very small for a human, almost delicate. Tell me, does she taste as good as she smells? What was it like to kiss her, to feel her envelop you?"

If Jethann had any more to say, Fenris did not hear it. He smashed his fist into the other elf's face, sending him and his chair tumbling backwards. "I warned you once not to talk about her that way. She will never be with you, just as she will never marry Seamus; not while I yet breathe. Hawke has never known any man but me, and it will stay that way." That wasn't entirely accurate, he knew, but she had never consented to let the Templars touch her, and she'd been so shy and inexperienced that in Fenris' mind, she had come to him virgin, the way he had with her. He was the first person she had chosen to be with and nothing could change that, just as nothing could change the way he felt about her. "You are not there; you don't know what it is like." He ranted, his blood boiling. "You do not know what it is like to go into battle and watch as countless enemies attack her first. She is always the target, always the prize. You do not know what it is like to watch every man she meets lay his heart at her feet. I never know if I will lose her love or her life. You do not know what it is like to protect her while everyone else looks the other way, trusting that she will fix everything. You do not know her, Seamus does not know her. I do."

"And you ran away." Jethann spat, his eyes glittering with hatred. "You had it all and you threw it away."

Fenris' shoulders slumped at that. "I cannot change what I have done. I can only stay beside her. If I had a life before, I do not want it any longer."

They both tensed when they heard a soft cry from the bedchamber. Fenris had taken three steps toward the door before Jethann stopped him. "I do not think she would be pleased with either of us if she woke to find you here." He said, softly. "There is an exit behind that panel. You would be wise to use it. I will not tell her of our…discussion if you do not."

"Keep your hands to yourself, or lose them." Fenris warned, ghosting from the room.

**oOo (several weeks later)**

"So tell me, Orana, what do you know of desserts? Your soup is fantastic, but I must confess that Mother and I were both cursed with a terrible sweet tooth. I thought that since my presence in the kitchen seems to send you into palpitations, I could teach you some of my own recipes."

"I would like that very much, Mistress." The elf said, bowing. "You are too kind." It was true. Mistress Hawke was nothing like Hadriana. Hawke was kind and had given Orana her own room and commissioned countless dressed for her in any color she wished. She had even begun teaching her letters; a gift worth much more than any material possessions, in case she decided to leave Hawke's service. As if she would. Hawke had provided her with a life she'd never dreamed of.

"Nonsense. It's my selfishness that drives me to teach you this."

Orana gasped, scandalized. "Oh no, Mistress! No one would ever call you selfish. You do so much to help people."

"I suppose it must look that way." Hawke mused. Neither woman noticed Fenris leaning in the doorway. "The people I've helped - they paid me. It was their troubles that allowed me to purchase my family home. I have built my fortune on the suffering of others."

"I thought your trip to the Deep Roads bought your house." Orana protested, shaking her head. "And now that you live here, you still help people. You helped me, and you didn't have to. I can see that you are uncomfortable with having someone to serve you, but even if you didn't pay me, you would still be the kindest, gentlest Mistress I have ever known."

Hawke sighed. "It makes me uncomfortable to be called Mistress. You may be in my employ, Orana, but I would still like for us to be friends. You must call me Selene, or even Hawke."

This brought another round of gasping and head shaking from the elf. "Oh, I couldn't! It wouldn't be proper."

"You don't…want to be my friend?" Hawke asked, the corners of her mouth twitching into a playful smile. From the shadows, Fenris smiled as well. He had come to bring her a gift, but he wanted to watch her a while longer. It was a rare occasion that he saw her looking so unguarded, so normal.

Orana, on the other hand, was mortified. Her mouth opened and closed a few times and she blushed to the roots of her hair. "That is not what I - I mean, you would not want to be friends with someone like me. You're so- and I'm-"

"You are sweet and gentle, and intelligent. Why wouldn't I want to be your friend? You are a lovely person, and you give yourself too little credit."

"I am not smart." She mumbled. "I didn't know anything until I met you."

"But you are learning fast. I never have to tell you anything twice. If you were stupid I wouldn't be able to teach you anything. You would just sit there, dumb as a post. Probably drooling, too. I hear stupid people drool. I've never seen it myself, but these sorts of rumors have to come from somewhere."

Orana smiled tremulously. "You - you are teasing me." It was more of a question than a statement.

Hawke thought she might grow light-headed from sighing so much. "Of course I am teasing you. If you have a sense of humor in there, you should really let it out."

The elf's smile firmed a little and she tossed a handful of flour in Hawke's face. Fenris felt his own smile widen as his little mage blinked in surprise. She slowly turned to face her new friend, and grabbing a handful of raspberries, mashed them into her apron. Orana made a strange and delighted sound, half gasp, half giggle before taking a large spoonful of chocolate frosting and aiming for Hawke's face. Squealing, Selene grabbed her wrist, holding the spoon over their heads. Her strategy failed. With a sparkling smile, Orana bent her wrist downward, managing to land a small dollop of frosting on Hawke's nose. Hawke shrieked with mock outrage and leaned heavily on Orana. The mage was small, but she was not as frail as the elven girl, and after awkwardly dancing a few steps around the kitchen, they both fell to the floor, overturning the bag of flour, creating a smoky cloud around them.

Fenris felt a laugh bubble up inside him as he watched the two women collapse against each other in helpless giggles. He felt as though he was seeing a secret side of her; a carefree side with a life that could have been hers if she hadn't been born a mage, a Hawke. His heart twisted painfully. _You had it all and you threw it away._ Those words echoed in his mind long before Jethann had ever uttered them. His life was cold and dark and hostile once again. He knew he was not good enough for her, but he would find a way to make this right. He would not stand by and watch her give herself to another man. He would stand in her light again.

He stepped out of the shadows when Hawke looked in his direction, noticing him for the first time. She blushed faintly through her mask of flour and struggled to regain her feet, hauling Orana up with her. Folding her hands in front of her demurely, she collected her composure as best she could.

"Fenris, what a pleasant surprise." She greeted him, trying to sound dignified, but Orana guffawed loudly over her.

"She's teaching me to bake." She gasped between giggles.

"So I see." Fenris said, smoothly.

Hawke fell short of breath as a lopsided grin graced his full, sensual lips. He was so beautiful to her. Every time she looked at him she was reminded of the mistake she had made by agreeing to marry Seamus. Even if she couldn't be with Fenris, living alone had to be better than living a lie. She felt like she was being torn in half every time she stood before either man. Still, she couldn't stop the laughter from bursting forth as the elf arched an eyebrow at her and smiled. He was saying something. What was it?

"Chocolate cake with raspberries." Orana said, saving Hawke from looking like a complete feather-brain.

"I've never had chocolate. Is it good?" Fenris looked back and forth between the two women who were now gaping at him. "Did I say something wrong?"

"You've never had chocolate?" Hawke gasped, incredulous. She looked at him as though he'd gone mad. "Why didn't you tell me? You have to have some right now!"

"I didn't know it was so important." He said, allowing her to push him into a chair.

"Well that just shows how little you know." She muttered, under her breath. "Never had chocolate. I've never heard of such a thing. Wait here."

"No need." He said, grasping her wrist. "I think I've found some." He leaned forward and licked the frosting from her nose. He watched her watch him with sparkling eyes as he rolled the flavor around his mouth. He'd never tasted anything like it. It was dark and creamy and sweet, but there was also something mysterious about it. Something sensual and sinful, beyond naming. It tasted like Hawke.

"I've brought you a gift." He whispered in a voice only for her ears. "I am very sorry for the loss of your staff, more than I can say. I understand it belonged to your father, and I could never presume to replace it, but it is my wish that this may serve you, at least for a time." He stood, and led her to the main hall where a long ebony case chased with silver leaned against the mantle.

Hawke had found it hard to find a replacement for her staff, it was a task she dreaded. She had carried her father's staff for years. Anything else felt like a betrayal, like she was forgetting him. Still, in her heart of hearts, she was wildly curious to see what Fenris had chosen for her. She wondered if she could learn anything of what he thought of her from it. She did not try to hide her excitement as she laid the case on its side and clicked the latches open. When she saw what was inside, she froze and looked up at Fenris with wide eyes.

"Do you know what this is?" She whispered. The staff was carved from an apple tree with twisted, gnarled branches that would reach above her head. Attached to it were the figures of two wolves made from pure lyrium. This was much more than just a staff. How had he come by it?

"It is called _Freedom's Promise._ It belonged to Aldenon, but no mage has been fit to carry it since his disappearance. Not until you."

"_A civilization cannot be civil if it condones the slavery of another._" Hawke quoted softly, as she lifted Freedom's Promise from its case with reverent. The staff seemed to purr in her grip. She stood, holding it at her side, and the branches curled over her protectively.

"_Tyrants always fall, and the downtrodden always strive for freedom!_" Fenris agreed quietly, but fiercely. He had known. It was a perfect fit. Her father's staff was magnificent, but it was her father's. This was hers. He wasn't sure if he believed in reincarnation, but he knew that Hawke's was an old soul. She was young still, not yet thirty, and lived a life of nearly constant fear and violence, but she never flinched away. She always took what she was given, good or ill, and used it to make herself stronger. She was powerful enough to pull the Gallows down brick by brick, and wise beyond centuries. Newly born people do not come by these qualities often. She was going to change the world.

His mental worship of her was interrupted when her small body was suddenly pressed against him, her arms wrapped tightly around her waist. She hadn't let go of Freedom's Promise; he could feel it humming against his back. He sighed contentedly and rested his cheek in her hair, effectively covering half his face with flour. He laughed quietly to himself, and she pulled back to study his face.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" Hawke exclaimed, trying to brush the flour away from his face and clothing, but instead smeared him with berry juice still stuck to her fingers.

Fenris did laugh then, full and loud. "Love, I was a mess long before I met you."

Hawke found herself laughing as well. Why was it so easy to be with him? Why did it seem easier now that they were no longer together, now that Seamus stood between them? As she stared up at him, she was reminded of the first time she'd kissed him. She had been so shy, but it was easier than she'd thought, almost natural. That feeling consumed her now, and she hurriedly stepped back, as if distance could lessen her attraction to him.

"Fenris, the staff, it is too much. How did you-"

"I have my connections, and it is not too much. Freedom's Promise is yours now, Hawke. I don't think it will accept another master."

"I - thank you. Truly, more than I can say."

She stepped forward as if to embrace him again, but stopped when someone cleared his throat from the doorway. Fenris cursed softly. Seamus. He was always there, always between them. Still, the elf smiled silkily. He had a big powdery Hawke-print pressed into the front of his clothing. Let the boy make of that what he would…And this, too:

He closed the distance between himself and Hawke, cupping her face in his hands and brushed his lips against her forehead. "I cannot wait until tomorrow." He murmured.

"Why? What's tomorrow?" Seamus demanded, striding forward.

Fenris looked at him as though he'd forgotten he was there. "Oh, I get better looking every day." He looked at Hawke with laughing eyes and dropped a kiss on the tip of her nose. "Thanks for the chocolate." He said, and for the first time in months, he left her with a smile on his face. He could do this. He would win.


	19. Chapter 19

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

**All That Remains**

Someone was killing women in Kirkwall. Hawke had come close to catching him years ago, but he'd escaped. Things quieted down after that, but it would seem that the killer had resurfaced. Emeric was harassing the guards again, who in turn harassed Hawke. She loved Aveline dearly, but she was more than a little disgusted that the guards couldn't direct more attention to a string of missing women.

The killer was growing bold, leaving clues, showing patterns, but it wasn't enough to point a finger at anyone. Emeric only had one real lead, an Orlesian man named Gascard Du Puis. Hawke sought him out at his home, fighting her way through and army of shades and demons before she could even speak to him. He passionately pleaded his innocence, yet he could not deny his involvement, and he freely admitted to being a blood mage. She was torn. She believed him when he said he wasn't the killer, but she didn't buy for a second that he lost his sister to this madman. His face showed no real grief, only anger and betrayal. He knew the killer, and wanted him dead, but not for the reason he gave.

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend." Hawke muttered, under her breath. She would let him live, though she misliked the decision nearly as much as her companions who turned to her in protest.

"The man clearly knows more than he's telling." Sebastian said.

"And we'll never learn what it is if we kill him now." Varric spoke in her defense.

Hawke studied Gascard carefully as he slumped his shoulders in relief. There was still something suspicious about him, a light in his eyes that told her he thought himself clever, triumphant. "I'm sorry," she said. "But it just doesn't add up. I can't let you go." She intended to turn him in to Emeric or the guards for questioning, but apparently he was not as clever as he believed. He smiled, slicing his palm, and a legion of shades popped up like daffodils in spring. While they were distracted he ran, sealing the room behind him. He played that little trick several times, but always Hawke followed him, broke down his barriers, fought off his shades until there was nothing left but him.

"I am not the killer! I am trying to find him, the same as you. We can help each other!" He begged.

A sorrowful expression shadowed Hawke's face. "I know you are not the killer, Gascard. I know it. But your actions are not those of an innocent man. I believe you when you say you are looking for the murderer, but I do not believe it is his life you seek. You are a blood mage and a fool, and as dangerous a man as I have ever met. It would be irresponsible to allow you to live. I am sorry."

**oOo**

She regretted killing him when she learned her own mother had received a bouquet of white lilies - her favorite. Apparently, they were everyone's favorite. The worst part was that Hawke never even knew Leandra had a suitor; it hadn't occurred to her to warn her.

Alessa had gone missing as well. That's where the regret for killing Gascard came in. Blood mage or no, he'd made a phylactery for the woman, and finding her quickly might save Leandra's life. She sent Isabella to check florists around Kirkwall, but she didn't have a lot of hope for that. For all she knew, the man had a greenhouse stuffed to the rafters with white lilies.

When Aveline arrived looking ready to take charge of this bedlam, Hawke felt a hostility rise within her that she could barely contain. "I appreciate your concern, Aveline, but the evidence hasn't changed and this is a distraction to the guards. Isn't that what you said?"

Hawke's tone was civil, if cool, and Aveline flinched as if struck. "Hawke, I am sorry I-"

"Return to the barracks, Captain. You are in my way." The authority in Hawke's voice snapped Aveline to attention. She was saluting and on her way out the door before it occurred to her to argue. Taking orders had been part of her for so long that she wondered if she was good for anything else anymore. She'd had such high ideals when she joined the guard, but when a case worth looking into, a challenge fell into her lap, she dumped it off on her friend. When Hawke brought her evidence, she'd dismissed it because it still didn't point a clear path to the killer. When had she gotten so lazy? When had she become a failure?

The Hawke's had given her a home and a family again. She'd forgotten that since becoming Guard-Captain. Now she called the other guards family and constantly lectured and criticized Hawke for her wild behavior, going as far as to bully her into an engagement she didn't want while her heart still bled for Fenris. She walked back to the barracks alone, oblivious to the tears that streamed silently down her cheeks. Leandra was missing, and it was her fault. Hawke would never forgive her if she died.

**oOo**

Hawke was surprised when Gamlen presented her with the best lead, though she shouldn't have been. He uncle had always had a string of unlikely contacts. That's how they had gotten into Kirkwall in the first place. Now he had found her an actual eye witness. If she hadn't been so terrified for her mother's safety, she would have hugged him. Instead, she examined the boy Gamlen had brought her. He was young, not yet fifteen by her estimation, dirty, ragged, and beaten up. She wondered briefly if her uncle had anything to do with that.

He said his name was Urchin, and he had little love for Gamlen. Hawke could hardly blame him for that, the way her uncle barked orders and expected results for no other reason than he said so. This boy lived by his wits and information was never cheap. Gamlen should know that better than anyone.

"Anything you can tell me, any little detail you remember would be a great help." Hawke said kindly, pressing a gold sovereign in the boy's hand.

Urchin bit the coin before stuffing it into his pocket. "That's real gold, that is! I'm your man through and through. I seen the lady you're looking for - grey hair and wearing a nice cloak - real pretty, for an old bird. Anyway, she was takin' the bridge up to Hightown, but a gent staggered into her like he was sotted. I guess he was bad hurt because he fell flat on his face. The lady helped him to his feet, but he was bleeding all over, and she said she knew someone who could help. They shuffled off that way. There's some blood on the ground over there."

Hawke frowned. Leandra would have gone the other way to bring her an injured man for healing. What was she doing in Lowtown anyway? Bodahn said she'd gone out to meet her suitor, but Hawke had a hard time picturing her mother agreeing to meet anyone in Lowtown at night. It was harder still to picture the injured man as a chance encounter.

"How long ago was this?" She asked the boy, desperately.

"Not long. Half an hour, maybe less."

Hawke dropped the remainder of her purse in Urchin's hands, and with Varric, Fenris, and Sebastian in tow, she ran off in the direction she had pointed. It didn't take long to find the little splatters of blood the boy had mentioned, and Hawke wondered if he'd really cut himself that badly, or if the trail was intentional; a taunt to whoever might be following. It was her experience that this sort of person almost enjoyed getting caught. They wanted to share their secret with someone, gloat over their own cleverness.

Varric watched her from the corner of his eye as they entered the foundry. Her sharp gaze flew to the spot where they'd caught a glimpse of a man running away three years ago. They'd only found a ring and the bones of a severed hand that time. He prayed they'd find Leandra alive. Hawke presented a strong front, but Varric didn't think she could shoulder the loss of her last remaining family. There was Gamlen, true, but the two of them bore no love for each other. In his eyes, Selene was a Hawke, never an Amell. He did not hold with magic, and Selene had only been allowed to stay with them because she protected him from his creditors. If not for that, Varric suspected she would have awakened to find herself in the Gallows long ago. The dwarf wasn't alone in his concern. Fenris only had eyes for Hawke as they followed the trail of blood to a hidden trap door.

"No!" Hawke screamed, when Fenris reached down reached down to lift the hatch. He let go and stepped hurriedly back, a questioning frown on his face.

"There is a seal." She explained. "Not like Gascard's. If you just pull the door open, you'll trigger the spell. If it doesn't kill us all, it will at least warn him that we are coming. I need to think for a minute." Hawke could feel traitorous tears filling her eyes. She tried to squash down her emotions, she didn't have time for them. She didn't have time to think of a way through the seal. She paced frantically back and forth. Was there a way through without resorting to blood magic? She suddenly wished she had brought Merrill along. She seemed to be wishing a lot lately, and that wouldn't save her mother. She heaved a shuddering sigh. _Anything to save her…Just this once._

"Do not even think it!" Fenris snapped, wresting the dagger from her hands. "You will not save Leandra that way. She would not want that for you."

Hawke released the weapon easily, shamed for feeling so relieved. She loved her mother and would risk anything to save her, but she did not want to be a blood mage. "Fuck it." She growled. "I hope we live through this." She strode to the trapdoor, and throwing a shield around herself and her companions, she lifted the hatch. The shields held. She hadn't been sure they would, but the blast was enough to rattle her teeth. If Fenris had opened that door without protection, there would not even be bones left to bury. The thought made her want to vomit.

"If our man is still here, he definitely heard that." Varric said. "We're going to have to run, now."

Hawke nodded, and jumped down the hole, unwilling to slow down for something as cumbersome as a ladder. Her ankle twisted painfully under her as she landed, and a sharp crunch told her she had broken it. Cursing, she healed herself and raced ahead, not bothering to look if the others were following. They would catch up eventually. Varric was right. Hawke ran as though her feet had wings. She ran toward her mother, and away from Fenris. She didn't want him to see her, didn't want to see the accusation she knew would be in his eyes. He would leave now. She couldn't deny her intentions, and she had to admit she would have done it if he hadn't stopped her. He would hate her forever. Tears blurred her vision and she told herself it would all be worth it to save her. She would do anything for her mother, pay any price and do it without hesitation or regret. Hawke would not have Leandra suffer a fraction of what she had in Templar hands.

As she ran through the twisting maze of hallways she found evidence of the other missing women - notes describing different features - Mharen's hands, Ninette's legs, she thought she might be sick when she found Alessa's body absent feet. Maker, this man had her mother! Hawke turned away and crashed into Fenris. Refusing to meet his gaze, she stepped around him and hurried in on.

He didn't want to let her go, but this was not the time for comforting words. Instead he dropped his arms uselessly at his sides and followed behind her. Truth to tell, if he told her he thought they'd find Leandra alive, it would have been a lie. The tail was too dark, and nothing good could come at the end. He had never seen this level of fear in Selene, but he could not bring himself to give her false hope. He had been more than a little shocked that she considered blood magic, but he did not entirely blame her for it. He wondered if there was any price he would not pay to free Hawke if someone took her away from him. She was all he had, and Leandra was all she had.

He almost ran into her again as the hallway opened up to reveal a large, filthy room littered with books and papers on blood magic, spirit magic, and necromancy. Hawke stood in the middle of the room, staring at a huge painting of her mother - at least, a woman who looked very much like her.

"What the fuck is all this?" Hawke whispered, fearing she knew the answer. Bile rose in her throat. _Please, please let me get there in time. _A brief search of the room revealed a door leading to a back room hidden behind a bookcase. That's where she found him smiling down at a woman seated in the chair before him.

"Ah, you must be Selene." He greeted her, spreading his arms wide. Leandra was certain you'd come."

Hawke didn't like the way he referred to her mother in the past tense. "So help me, if you've harmed her-"

"Do you know what the strongest force in the universe is?"

_Here we go…_Hawke thought.

"Love. My love was taken from me long ago, but the feeling endured, and I have devised a way to be reunited with her. It's taken me years, but I've finally pieced her together; her hands, her skin, her beautiful face - your mother's face. Stand, my dear. Introduce yourself to our guests."

The woman in the chair moved in fits and starts until she rose unsteadily to her feet. She was wearing a dirty, tattered wedding dress, and for a moment her dead eyes held the light of tragic, heartbreaking recognition. Hawke gaped at her mother. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe. That was Leandra's face, but not her body, and her hands didn't match her arms. The stitching holding her together was crudely done, and she was bleeding in some places, rotting in others. Hawke fought hard not to scream. She didn't know if her mother was in there anymore, but if she was, she didn't want to hurt her feelings. She could hear Sebastian praying quietly behind her. The blood mage was talking, but Hawke couldn't hear him. She had come too late. She'd failed. Again. A painful tear slipped silently down her cheek. She'd let this happen. Maker, what had he done to her sweet, beautiful mother?

Time slowed to a crawl as Hawke pulled her athame from her belt and threw herself at the necromancer. He summoned demons and raised corpses to distract her, but she only had eyes for him. She spun neatly around the obstacles he place before her, giving them as much attention as she would tree trunks. The others would see to them; the mage was hers, and he wasn't ready for her. He'd expected her to attack with magic. He flung himself backward, his eyes widening in alarm as he recognized the dagger for what it was.

_Just a scratch, that's all I need._ She thought, desperately.

He raised a shield around himself, and Hawke smiled grimly. That sort of magic was temporary and left him unable to attack. She sent a few fireballs sailing into the walking dead behind her, but kept her eye on him, determined to wait him out. Trapped in a prison of his own making, he kept a wary eye on her as well. More specifically, on the dagger she carried. Few mages practiced carrying an athame anymore, and he clearly hadn't expected to encounter one tonight. Hawke had hoped to kill Alrik with it; the irony had made her smile, but nothing ever went according to plan. This man was more than suitable to wet her blade. This was the man she'd been waiting for.

The shield dropped, and Hawke slashed viciously. Sparks rained down on them as the necromancer raised his staff to block her athame. Beads of sweat popped out on his brow and he realized that she was the one leading the dance now, not him. Hawke bared her teeth in a snarling smile. Most people assumed that because she was a mage, she lacked skill in hand-to-hand combat. She allowed her attack to follow through, sliding down the staff, hoping to catch a knuckle. She set her stance, anchoring herself for the mind blast that was sure to come; he was only able to push her back a few paces, and she never lost her balance. She flung herself at him again, rushing forward on the balls of her feet. Feinting left, Hawke dropped to one knee and slashed again across his belly, smiling savagely when she felt the gentle resistance of tearing flesh. He could cast no more magic and he would be dead in two minutes.

The shades were down, the demons as well, unable to sustain themselves without the blood mage's magic. Fenris put up his sword, turning to see Hawke catch her mother and lower her gently to the ground. That wasn't what held his attention, though. The mage lay on the ground a few feet away, twitching and gasping for air. His veins had turned black, and his skin turned grey. He was sweating profusely, and the blood vessels burst in his eyes, washing them in red. Fenris felt sick as he watched the man die. He hadn't known what he agreed to when he accepted Hawke's athame that night. He'd known it would kill her, but he never thought it would be like this. He was suddenly intensely relieved not to be carrying it. He wasn't sure he'd be able to make the cut now. He stared at her, horrified. Had she known how he would suffer, how she would suffer if she had been scratched instead? She must, yet she never flinched from it, never shied away from the truth. Even now, holding a strange patchwork woman wearing her mother's face, there was no revulsion in her eyes. Only love and sorrow and bone deep loneliness.

"I tried to find you." Hawke's voice broke, and sobs wracked her body.

Leandra brushed a cold, dead hand across Selene's face. "I am free now. You saved me sweetheart, but you will be alone."

"I still have Seamus." Her forced cheer made her sound more miserable than ever, and Leandra grimaced.

"I was wrong to push you. Do not marry him. Grab that elf and hold on tight, because life is fleeting. Live, darling. You are so strong, do not be afraid to be happy."

_I do not deserve to be happy._ She didn't say it out loud. It was too late anyway. Leandra was gone.

**oOo**

Hawke stood next to her mother's funeral bier, wondering if she would ever run out of tears. No matter what she did, no matter how much she smoked, she couldn't seem to stem the flow. She stared at the ground. Many different pairs of feet had come to visit her, some to offer condolences, others to offer blame. Neither really mattered. She knew it was her fault.

"From birth, 'til death, we travel between the eternities." She touched her torch to the bier, and the flames leapt up to engulf Leandra in heat and smoke. "A death is not the extinguishing of a light, but the putting out of the lamp because the dawn has come." She wondered if she could cry enough to put out the fire.

She felt a warm hand on her shoulder, and she turned to bury her face in Seamus' chest, allowing him to comfort her. _Do not marry him._ Everyone save Aveline and Sebastian had said that to her now. Her mother whispered it with her dying breath, but like so many things, it was too late for that. She had given her word to Seamus, to the Viscount, to Kirkwall, that she could stand before the Maker and bind her life to Seamus Dumar. She had never gone back on her word, and she could not hurt Seamus to serve her own selfish desires. She curled her fingers into his shirt. It was not the worst fate that could befall her, but it still hurt.

_I am an unnatural daughter to think of this now. _She thought with a sob. She was thoroughly sickened by herself.

**oOo**

Fenris hadn't seen Hawke since the funeral more than a week ago, and she hadn't spoken to anyone that day. He'd sent her several messages, but she hadn't responded, and he had been turned away by Orana or Bodahn every time he visited in person. That she was avoiding him was obvious, he just didn't know why. He was on his way to the Hanged Man to find the answer. Varric would know something. Hawke seemed to have adopted the dwarf as a surrogate brother. If she was talking to anyone, it would be him.

One never knew what to expect upon entering the Hanged Man, and Fenris had thought himself used to the tavern's unpredictable moods, but the scene that greeted him dropped his jaw to the floor. Hawke was there, perched on a stool and quietly playing her guitar. The rest of the room was silent but for the sound of patrons attempting to drown their sorrows in ale. Serving girls wept quietly as they made their rounds refilling tankards. Varric rushed forward, taking Fenris by the arm.

"Andraste's great dimpled butt cheeks, I'm glad to see you." The dwarf growled. "I don't think I've ever seen anyone drink so much in my life, and I live upstairs. Where does she put it? You've got to get her out of here, elf, she-" Whatever Varric meant to say, Fenris didn't hear it. Hawke was finishing her song, and he was striding toward her.

"Funny. You don't look drunk." He said, by way of greeting.

"That's 'cuz I'm sitting." She said, not looking up from tuning her guitar.

"You've been avoiding me, Selene."

She did look up then. "Fenris…" She looked down again quickly, resting her hand on her brow for a moment. Shame filled her voice, her every gesture. This was it. He'd finally come to tell her he was leaving.

"Varric tells me he thinks you've had enough to drink. What do you think about that?"

"That he cares more about the precious image he's created for me than who I really am." She said, insolently.

Fenris was shocked at the anger in her tone. She _never_ spoke harshly of Varric. Ever. "Come on, Hawke. Let's get you out of here." He said, taking her guitar away and helping her to her feet. She stumbled into him, and for once he was too concerned to be happy about putting a bracing arm around her. She really was drunk.

"I won't be there for you, Fenris," she mumbled, staring at the floor. "Not when it really matters. My whole family, lost because I was too slow or too weak. How many times can a heart break before it's not worth putting back together?"

He didn't have an answer for her. He tilted her face up to meet his gaze and brushed away fresh tears. "I know it's painful, love, but we must never give up."

Hawke rested a hand against his chest. "It's good that you left, Fenris. It is dangerous to be loved by me." She tried to turn away, but he wouldn't allow it.

"Like hell." He growled. He knew he shouldn't, that this was the wrong time, the whole tavern was watching them, but he kissed her, long and hard. He needed her, needed to remind her what they meant to each other, to remind her that she needed him, too. He didn't know why she looked so ashamed every time she looked at him, but he would find a way to fix it. _Just please, Maker, let me find a way for us to be together._ He had to suppress a groan when he felt her arms wrap around his waist and her mouth open for him. She kissed him passionately, more than matching his heat.

Neither of them noticed that Seamus had just walked through the door.


	20. Chapter 20

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

**The Catalyst**

The engagement was off, and the Viscount had requested an audience with Hawke. The last thing she wanted was to rehash last night's scene with Seamus' father.

She had been blind drunk, and even giggled at the look on Fenris' face as he defended her. He looked like he'd swallowed a lemon when he told Seamus that Hawke hadn't invited his attention. Naturally, between her snickering and Fenris' grudging admission, Seamus hadn't been in a listening mood. He pointed out that she certainly hadn't resisted the elf's advances, that she rarely did, based on the chocolate incident. Fenris was very handsy where Hawke was concerned. There, in front of everyone at the Hanged Man, Seamus asked her why she'd agreed to marry him if she loved another man.

Hawke stood there, silent and mortified as every person in the tavern waited on bated breath for an answer she did not have. It was Isabella who stepped in to save her, throwing her grief and her drunken state in Seamus' face.

"Maker, son, look at what you have." She'd said, exasperated. "For every man who wants to take me to bed, Hawke has three. There isn't a warm blooded man here who wouldn't give her a tumble, and a few of the women as well, myself included. If you ask me, that she isn't with a different man every night is nothing short of miraculous. After everything that has happened to her and her family, you cannot blame her if it is hard to let go of her lover. You have not lived enough, boy, if you cannot understand the pain of loss."

Hawke's face heated, remembering Isabella's speech, but it was with shame, as she recalled Seamus' response. He'd pinned her with an icy blue stare. "If you think she cares about anyone whose last name isn't Hawke," he said to Isabella, "you don't know her very well at all. You betrayed me, Selene. You have broken your vow, and you haven't said a word in your own defense. You never wanted to marry me. You're just another lying noble, grasping for power, but I will be no woman's puppet. Enjoy your slave." And he stormed out.

Hawke dragged her feet to the Keep, and found the Viscount staring thoughtfully out the window. He was beginning to show his age. He turned to look at her with sorrowful eyes, looking every bit like he was about to be crushed by the burdens he carried, as if the weight of the world rested on his frail shoulders.

"I am glad you came, my dear. I know this is a difficult time for you, and awkward as well, but-"

"I am sorry for the way things turned out between Seamus and I, serah. Truly, it was not my intent."

The Viscount waved a dismissive hand. "That is not why I asked you here, although it is a shame. I was rather looking forward to calling you daughter. Seamus is a good boy, but he lacks the skill to lead. Perhaps that is why the Qun calls to him so. They are so organized; a place for everything and everything in its place. I suppose there are many who would find it an attractive prospect, especially in these turbulent times."

"Seamus has converted to the Qun?" Hawke asked, instantly alert.

"I pray it has not gone so far as that, but he left for their compound early this morning. I am loath to ask it of you, but I was hoping you might try to convince him to come home."

"I fear I may not be the best person for the job. I do not mean to sound arrogant, but I cannot believe I had nothing to do with his decision."

"I agree completely. That is why it must be you. I know my son, Selene. If I go, or Bran, or Guard-Captain Vallen, Seamus will use you as an excuse to stay away. Whatever has happened between you, he still respects and admires you. He will listen to you."

"This is going to get messy." Hawke sighed, leaving the Viscount's office. She could not very well bring Fenris with her, which made things more difficult. The Arishok was prickly at best, but the elf had a way of smoothing to process. Seamus would disagree. She sighed again, heavily. Varric, Anders, and Sebastian would have to do. She settled herself in for a smoke while she thought about what she would say to him.

**oOo**

The Arishok did not seem surprised to see her. His eyes narrowed when he saw that Fenris was not among her companions. The elf knew something of the Qun, and helped to keep the reset of them from offending anyone too badly. Hawke took a deep breath and told herself to be diplomatic.

"I am here about the Viscount's son." She blurted out. _Fantastic, Hawke, you silver-tongued devil._ Oddly it was Varric's voice that mocked her in her mind.

"Are you?" The Arishok replied, looking mildly amused. "Bas beg me to let them come to the Qun. Do you think we corral them like animals? The son has made a choice. You will not deny him that." It was neither a threat, not a command. The Arishok simply knew Hawke, knew that she was honorable and reasonable. That didn't mean the debate was over by any means. She was also determined.

"Surely you can see the advantage of having the Viscount's son at arm's reach. She said, trying to sound polite. The Qunari were easily offended, but they preferred to speak openly, and had little patience for mincing words.

"He is no longer the son of the Viscount. He is Viddathari, searching for certainty that the Qun provides."

"You would not take advantage of his connection?"

"There may come a time when the Qun will demand that of him, but I do not. He is not my prisoner. He is not even here. He went to his father. Ask the Viscount why he would send you and a letter both. Does he think we would not deliver his message? Your people accuse me of living without honor, yet I have seen precious little of it among your own kind."

Hawke could not argue that. She had lamented the same thing on more than one occasion. "It does seem strange." She admitted, especially since she had spoken with the Viscount not two hours previously. There was enough time for Seamus and his father to speak, but Hawke did not think that was the case. Something about this didn't feel right.

"They are meeting at the Chantry. A last pointless appeal, I assume. The boy has decided. He does not seem so fickle as the rest of you." Hawke felt her face hearting under his hard glare. Seamus had told him.

"The Viscount has not tried to involve the Chantry before." Sebastian protested, certain he'd heard wrong.

"No, but we know who would." Hawke growled. This was more serious than she'd believed. If sister Petrice was involved, Seamus was in very real danger.

"A suspect in many things." The Arishok agreed. "If she has threatened someone under my command again, there is only one response. I will suffer only one outcome. I will be watching, Hawke. The demand of the Qun is clear."

Hawke bowed politely and left the Docks, her thoughts swirling like quicksilver. Kirkwall was fast turning into a powder keg, and Hawke was terrified that when the smoke cleared, she would be the one holding the match.

**oOo**

Hawke entered the Chantry to find Seamus kneeling in the pulpit, wearing his favorite crimson doublet, the one he'd been wearing the day she'd agreed to marry him. Shame pressed down on her like a mountain. Maker, what could she say? She had no desire to renew their engagement, but she knew if that what he wanted, she would have to give it to him.

"Seamus, can we talk?"

He didn't answer.

Hawke rested her hand on his shoulder. "I am sorry for the way-" Her jaw dropped in horror as her touch upset his balance. Seamus fell over, revealing that his throat had been opened from ear to ear. His shirt had gone a long way toward hiding the blood.

"Hawke, what have you done?" Petrice tried to sound casual, but somehow she always sounded like she was complaining. "Was it not enough that you jilted the poor boy to be with an _elven slave_, did you have to kill him? A repentant Qunari convert? Traitor!"

"Petrice, I don't think the Chant of Light says 'Believe what we say or we'll kill you.' Still, I suppose it has been a successful Chantry standby." Hawke's tone was light, almost airy, as she tried to breathe around the lump in her throat. _Why am I always too late?_ She hadn't wanted to marry Seamus, but she'd cared for him. He was fair and open-minded, and could have led Kirkwall out from under Meredith's yoke. He'd deserved better than she'd given him. _Too late. Always too late. Another life wasted because of my selfishness. My fault. All my fault. If I hadn't kissed Fenris, if he hadn't walked in he wouldn't have gone to the Qun. He wouldn't be here; he'd be alive._

"You condemn yourself with your own words, heretic!"

"Is it now punishable by death not to follow the Chant?" Hawke asked. Her voice was deceptively mild, but her blood was boiling. The room seemed to grow dim as her eyes took in the light. "Are we not a free people? Has the Chantry become law unto itself? The corruption in your heart is a vile thing, Petrice, and could mean dire consequences for Kirkwall. Are you so hungry for war?"

"Filthy apostate!" Petrice spat. "The Templars will do for you. The Circle here is not like Ferelden. We have heard of your mage-loving Knight-Commander, and you'll find none of it here. Our Templars will keep you screaming in the dark for the rest of your life!"

"Shouldn't have said that." Varric growled, cocking Bianca and lowering her at Petrice. She couldn't possibly know, but it didn't matter. He would not suffer anyone to threaten Hawke and live. Some words must never be uttered.

Hawke didn't need anyone to protect her. She filled herself with as much mana as she could hold, but still she drew more and more from reservoirs she didn't know she had, until a strange blue flame burst from her fingertips and gently licked its way up her palm. It didn't hurt, it felt almost cool, like a breath of fresh air that existed only in her hands. She didn't know what it was or what would happen if she used it, but Petrice would provide her an excellent guinea pig for her new spell.

"What in the name of the Maker is going on here?" Elthina demanded from the balcony. The flame in Hawke's hands flickered and died. She was vastly disappointed and wildly curious. What was that? How had she done it?

"Grand Cleric." Petrice looked triumphant. "A foul murder has been committed here, just as I warned you. This heretic had killed the Viscount's son for repenting his conversion to the Qun. They seek to destroy the Chantry!"

"As long as there is someone to whisper the Maker's name, the Chantry will never be destroyed." Hawke said, wearily, sadly. "Grand Cleric, I did not kill Seamus. I had no care for his religious beliefs. Mother Petrice, on the other hand, has spread whispers of malcontent through Kirkwall for years in her effort to incite a holy war with the Qunari. When she could only gather a few zealots to her cause, she lured Seamus here to stage a murder that would draw the attention of everyone in the Free Marches."

"Seamus was a Qunari convert! How many of our own must we lose to them?" Petrice argued, a desperate whine lacing her voice.

"As many as would want to go, I suppose." Elthina said, gravely. It was clearly a subject that worried her, yet she would not deny anyone the freedom to choose.

"They deny the Maker!" The young mother screamed, spittle flying from her lips.

"And you diminish him even as you claim his side. Serah Hawke, you are here on behalf of the Viscount?"

"As well as the Qunari. There are many in this city who loved Seamus well." Hawke confirmed.

"The young mother has erred in her judgment. A court will decide her fate. The Chantry must abide by the law, and so must she." Elthina turned her back on Petrice and made her slow way back upstairs, ignoring the young mother's protests.

The Grand Cleric's words could do nothing to soothe Hawke's rage, however, nor did they negate her promise to the Arishok. She built a small bolt of spirit energy between her hands, preparing to hurl it at Petrice, but stopped when a giant tattooed hand rested on her arm, gently.

"No, Hawke." The Qunari rumbled. "Seamus was Viddathari. The Qun do not abandon their own. This is my task to complete. The Arishok will know of your role in this. Should you grow weary of this chaotic life, the Qun has a place for you."

_There is no place for me. _She thought numbly, and watched as one arrow took Petrice in the stomach, another in the forehead. She died with a look of surprise on her face. They were always surprised when reality didn't shape itself to their whims.

Elthina turned to look at the scene before her. She didn't look surprised or sad or even displeased to see Petrice bleeding on the floor of the Chantry. Her silver gaze shifted to Hawke. "Please send for the Viscount. He will want to know about his son; and the Arishok as well, I presume."

The Arishok already knew, Hawke was certain. She didn't know how she was going to explain this to the Viscount. The pressure or ruling Kirkwall was slowly crushing him. Losing Seamus would be like cutting his legs out from under him. The Viscount was a kind man, a fair man, but not a strong man. Her mother had told her that there was no greater injustice that to have to bury your children. She had seemed…incomplete without Carver and Bethany. Hawke grimaced. All she could think about was what she had lost, but Leandra had lost just as much - more; and now the Viscount had lost his family as well - because of her.

That was one thing she shared with her companions. They were all orphans, all alone in the world, but bound together by one simple truth: They didn't have anyone else.

**oOo**

Hawke returned from Seamus' funeral bleary-eyed, exhaustion etched into her bones. It was not common knowledge in Kirkwall that she had been unfaithful to Seamus, or that the engagement had ended before he had gone to the Qun. They assumed that Hawke was the jilted lover, offering her their heartfelt condolences, washing her in guilt. The Viscount had asked that she let the people believe what they would if it helped his son save face in his final hours. Let him have his dignity. Hawke could hardly refuse, though it made her wildly uncomfortable. If they knew the truth they would look upon her with scorn, not pity. She did not deserve their sympathy.

All she wanted in the world was to take a hot bath and go visit Jethann so she might find some sleep. She had missed their last appointment; there had been too much to keep her occupied since her mother died, not the least of which was losing Seamus. Love came in many forms, and he had been a good friend to her. Her world had been spinning on its side for too long, and it was hard to string two thoughts together. Sadly, there was no rest to be found that night. Not for Hawke. She entered the main hall of her home to discover Aveline and Isabella arguing heatedly over which of their urgent problems Hawke was going to fix first. She sighed heavily, and considered sneaking back out, but it was too late. They noticed her.

"Hawke." Aveline greeted her in a demanding tone. "I need you to appeal to the Arishok. Two fugitives have-"

"I'm going to die!" Isabella rode right over the Guard-Captain. "There. Got your attention. Real problem."

Hawke had a brief fantasy of smacking their heads together, then stepping over their unconscious bodies on her way upstairs to have her bath. She also considered burning them both to ash where they stood. Several other more gruesome ideas came to her - including an unlikely scenario involving fire ants, but she said nothing; she didn't know where to find fire ants anyway. Instead, she pulled her pipe from her pocket and took a long drag. It was never far from her these days. Aveline made a face and opened her mouth to protest, but Hawke stopped her with a frozen green glare.

"It's my house, and there is no law against it. If you don't like it, get the fuck out." She said in a flat voice. "Am I to understand that the two of you have been waiting for me to come back from my fiancé's funeral for this?"

"It was my understanding that the engagement had, in fact, ended before Seamus was murdered." Aveline said. They hadn't been getting along well since Leandra died. Hawke hadn't brought it up again, and she felt like it would have been rude if she did it herself, so the matter went unresolved in Aveline's mind, an idea that brought her no end of frustration.

"I'm sorry, is this you asking me for a favor?" Hawke said, blowing a thick cloud of smoke in the Guard-Captain's face. "Isabella, who's trying to kill you now? I assume you're not here for healing."

"Still Castillon, but I've found the relic. This time I'm sure of it."

"People always say they're sure when they're not." Aveline scoffed. "The Qunari threat is real, and it's more important than a thief's treasure."

"Actually, there might be a connection." Isabella said, hesitantly.

_Maker, all this time, and she's coming clean _now? Hawke could feel a headache building behind her eyes.

"I lied when I said I didn't know what the relic is. It's a book. A Qunari tome or something. I stole it from them. That's what they're looking for, but I need it to get Castillon off my back."

"You stole the Tome of Koslun from the Qunari." Hawke felt her hand twitch, instinctively reaching for magic, and she schooled herself to stillness. "You brought the Qunari to Kirkwall."

"I…did." She admitted. "It's not like I could give it back to them. I lost it. Even if I could, I wouldn't. Castillon will kill me!"

"And this Castillon, he's a Templar?"

"No." Isabella said, looking confused.

"A priest?"

"No."

"A mage? Giant? Dragon? Giant dragon?"

"What are you talking about? You know he's a man." She didn't care for the edge in Hawke's tone.

"That's right, he's a man. Is there any particular reason you think I wouldn't be able to simply kill this man?" _That didn't save your mother or Seamus, not Bethany or Carver. Not even yourself. Only revenge. Never salvation. _"Where is this relic of yours?"

"There is a meeting in Lowtown tonight. They plan to hand it over to the Tevinter magisters."

"Let's go." Hawke didn't bother to change out of her mourning clothes. She hefted her staff and turned toward the door.

"You're going to help her? She's a spy and a thief for the Tevinter Imperium." Aveline argued, incredulously.

"A thief for Castillon, not the Imperium. And a pirate, never a spy." Isabella said, cheerfully.

"Hawke! Tell me you're not really going to trust this - this-"

Hawke spun around to glare at Aveline with fire in her eyes. "Yes, Aveline, you want me to appeal to the Arishok over some matter of law. Well, in case you failed to notice, he's been trapped here for three years looking for a relic Isabella knows the location of. He may be more sympathetic to your cause if your can provide him with the thing he seeks. Is that satisfactory, Guard-Captain? Have I explained myself enough to you?" Hawke raised a hand for silence when Isabella tied to argue. "Don't interrupt me. If you didn't know what I would do when you came here, you don't know me at all. You just made this my problem, and I'm fixing it. I will deal with Castillon later. It may be too late to make this right as it is."

**oOo**

_Nothing ever goes according to plan._ Hawke thought, forlornly. It seemed Isabella wasn't the only one who knew about the handoff tonight. The Qunari were there as well. _There goes my bargaining chip. With Isabella here, they'll never believe I meant to give it back to them._

Hawke sighed heavily as the fight over the Tome of Koslun began. She did not fight the Qunari, they were not the enemy. Unfortunately, they did not feel the same way. The attacked her with as much force as the magisters - a people they'd been fighting for centuries. It was a chaotic battle, everyone was fighting everyone. Form and technique had been abandoned. Hawke could see the fear spreading through the holding party and the magisters, and she cursed the Qunari for their indiscriminate choice in prey. Had they joined forces, they could have crushed them both - Hawke, the hammer and the Qunari, the anvil. The battle would be done and the Arishok could have his precious tome. Instead, the man holding the book slipped away among the confusion, and Isabella chased after him.

_The world gets a little heavier every day._ Hawke thought. _She will not be back. Time to face the Arishok._

**oOo**

Hawke went alone to meet Aveline, feeling guilty over the way she'd treated her. Whatever else had happened, she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she could trust the Guard-Captain.

"You don't have it." Aveline said, sounding supremely disappointed.

"Of course not. That would be convenient. I've probably made things worse by being seen there with her. I should have listened to you, Aveline. I don't know how much help I can be to you now, but you have my support."

Aveline smiled warmly and felt a dark weight lift from her heart. Come what may, things would be better now. "You were only doing what you thought was right. And it _was _right, but nothing ever goes as we plan, does it?"

"My thoughts exactly."

To say that the Arishok was reluctant to meet with them was a vast understatement. He'd had more than his fill of humans and their scheming, and Hawke couldn't blame him. As she suspected, he also had no desire to talk about the fugitives he had taken in. He knew of her involvement in the fiasco with the Tome, and Hawke suspected that if her answers did not please, she and Aveline would be escorted out, absent their lives. He clearly knew what had happened, and any half-truths or attempts at sugar-coating this mess would only cement the outcome of a grim looking future. She did not attempt to hide, nor make excuses, nor plead her innocence. None of that would matter to the Arishok.

"One of my former companions has it." She said, when he asked her.

"Her part is clear. Your admission is welcome."

"A discussion for another time." Aveline interrupted, much to Hawke's annoyance. People skills were not the Guard-Captain's strong suit. "We are here about the elven fugitives you are harboring."

"These elves have come to the Qun of their own accord. They are Viddathari. They will be protected." The Arishok's tone brooked no argument.

"Have they truly converted, or are they just hiding, using you as a shield?" Hawke asked, trying to sound diplomatic, and failing. It was difficult to be polite and blunt at the same time.

"I did not ask." The Arishok admitted. "I do not care. They have chosen and so have I. You have done nothing to hide the greed and corruption choking this city. You have allowed your zealots to run free, murdering innocents in the name of a god who does nothing to help his own. The corruption has even spread to your guard, the very people who are sworn to uphold the law."

"An outside entity taking the law into his own hands is hardly calming to a city already in turmoil." Hawke pointed out, to little effect.

"Let us look at these dangerous criminals." He rumbled, his patience wearing thin.

Two gaunt and shabbily dressed elves stepped out from behind a wall of Qunari. "A city guard forced himself on our sister." One said. "We tried reporting him, but nothing was done, So my brother and I paid him a visit. You are woman. Surely you can understand that this atrocity could not go unpunished. Who do you turn to if the Guard is the problem?"

"That doesn't excuse murder!" Aveline snapped.

_It had to be rape. _Hawke thought. _I promise to support her, and I have to side with a rapist. _The thought made her want to vomit. "Are these elves telling the truth?" She asked Aveline, feeling like a traitor.

"There have been rumors. I needed time to investigate, but these elves took the law into their own hands."

"Sometimes that is necessary." The Arishok interjected, and Hawke silently agreed. Aveline was more stubborn. She believed in the law. She _was_ the law.

"Like you avenged the Viscount's son?" The Guard-Captain demanded. "It was not right then, and it is not right now."

Hawke fought the urge to pinch the bridge of her nose in weary frustration. She was used to Aveline butting heads with people, but the Arishok had horns. There had to be a way to diffuse the situation, but what could she say when both parties were right - and wrong?

"You have come to our land and expected us to respect your ways and your laws, while denying us the same. We may not be perfect, but no society is. Kirkwall is overrun with Tal-Vashoth - the corruption of the Qun. You think to hide it by exiling them, but they are your people. Tell me: Were the situation reversed, would you allow a fellow Qunari to be subject to the law of the Free Marches? These elves did not follow your path before their crime was committed, and they must stand trial for it. They will find a willing advocate in me. I will speak in their defense, and if they are found innocent, they are free to return to you; but I cannot allow you to continue to live here and ignore out laws."

"Their crime is merely a symptom. Your society is the disease. Tell me, Hawke: What would you do in my place."

"You say you cannot leave without your relic, yet the Tome of Koslun is leaving Kirkwall as we speak. Why do you not follow?"

"I have sent scouts. I cannot remain blind to this dysfunction."

_Fucking fantastic. He's wanted this all along. I should have just sat back and let him and Petrice destroy each other. _

Understanding was slower to dawn on Aveline. "Arishok, there is no need-" But it was too late. The command had been given, and long, fat spears were raining down on them. Hawke gathered a fireball between her hands, but Aveline stopped her throwing it with a shake of her head. "Not here! It's too open! We need to gather reinforcements!" She pulled Hawke out of the way of a spear that would have pinned her to the ground.

**oOo**

Not for the first time, Varric wished dwarves had longer legs. The trip from the Hanged Man to Fenris' manor in Hightown had never seemed so far before, although he'd never had to fight through crowds of frightened and confused people. The Qunari had finally gone mad, and they were sacking the city. Varric's contacts placed Hawke at the Docks when the fighting started. There was no word of her after that. The elf would want to know. It didn't look good, but if there was a chance that Hawke was alive, it was time to arm up and go after her.

"Elf! Time to grab your sword and go to work! Hawke's in trouble!" Varric almost smiled at the muffled sound of cursing before the elf appeared in the doorway, armored and armed, and vaulted over the banister, forgoing the stairs altogether. Still, he could not summon any amusement at the thought of someone gripped by a greater fear than his. They could not lose her. She was more family to him than Bartrand ever was. She was the shining star of Kirkwall. She kept things interesting - and respectable. Hawke's moral compass always pointed true north.

"What happened?" Fenris demanded, jerking the door open so hard Varric wondered that he didn't tear it off the hinges.

"I don't know much. Hawke was down at the Docks with Aveline when the Qunari decided it was to be war, after all. I don't know anything else. I don't know if she's even-"

"She is alive." Fenris growled. "We will need another healer. We need Anders."

Varric felt his jaw drop. "Somehow I knew I'd be there when hell froze over."

"We cannot afford to take chances with her safety. She may need more help than you or I can offer."

"Oh, I know. I'm just surprised to hear you say it. You even called him by his name instead of 'the abomination.' You've made a lot of progress."

The elf grunted and unstrapped his sword, prepared to meet any threat on their way to Darktown. As luck would have it, their detour was unnecessary. They found Anders hurrying out the front door of Hawke's estate.

"What in the hell were you doing in there?" Fenris roared, grabbing the mage by the collar of his robes and giving him a hard shake. He may need Anders' help, but that didn't mean he trusted him…Especially where Hawke was concerned.

"I came up through the cellar." Anders said, shaking the warrior off. "I heard the fighting and figured Hawke was in the middle of it. This was the fastest way to find the two of you. Stop glaring at me, Fenris. She gave me permission to use her home as an escape route."

"And bring the danger straight to her." Fenris grumbled.

"Don't think I didn't point that out." Anders said, defensively.

Varric rolled his eyes at the two of them. "Why don't the two of you quit clucking over Hawke's safety and ask yourself who will protect the Qunari from her? She's easily the most dangerous thing in the Free Marches."

"You were not so confident when you practically kicked my door in." Fenris muttered. "Powerful she may be, but a Qunari spear would kill her as easily as you or I."

That silenced their banter as they made their way toward the docks, pausing for the occasional skirmish with the Qunari and their supporters. Fenris didn't know they had found her until he felt her healing magic caress him like a cool breeze on a spring day. He leaned into the feeling, and a mysterious inner peace settled over his heart, lending speed and a heightened awareness to his attacks. She was with him. She was safe. He was invincible.

"I thought Aveline was with you." He said, when they had a moment's respite. He didn't know if he was relieved to see her alive, or infuriated that she was alone. Why did she have to be so reckless? Maker, she looked tired.

"Aveline needs to rally the guards. Perhaps you failed to notice the chaos?" She gestured to the piles of rubble that had once been Lowtown. Was he really going to lecture her now? Hawke shook her head. That was unfair. Why shouldn't he ask after Aveline? Fenris didn't care for many of her companions, but he and the Guard-Captain had become fast friends.

"I am glad I found you." She said, with a sigh. "The Qunari are headed toward the Keep. There are too many of them for us to hope to beat them there, but perhaps we can get there in time to prevent a massacre."

**oOo**

Fenris watched Hawke from the corner of his eye and wondered if the sorrow and shame would ever leave her eyes. Whatever had happened between them at the Hanged Man was done, that much was clear. She blamed herself, blamed kissing him for Seamus' death, and her conscience would not allow her to be with him now. She had seemed relieved to see him, but that shame burned fiercely in her eyes before she looked away.

Hawke set a hard pace on the way to Hightown, barely pausing to slaughter bands of Qunari with vicious spells, lifting them twenty feet in the air and slamming them down with enough force to dash their brains on the paving stones. She did not see the Saarebas in the shadows. Qunari mages were highly feared and extremely powerful, and this one sent forth a telekinetic burst that sent Hawke and her companions flying.

It was hard to focus on the Saarebas as it advanced. Her thoughts came slowly, and she felt like her ears had been packed with wool. The mage was targeting her, but her eyes searched for Fenris. He was down, blood trickling from his ears. His eyes were open, vacant, he did not move. Hawke felt something break inside her and a ragged sob was torn from her throat. Death was beyond her skill to heal.

The Saarebas loomed over her now, but she could not summon the will to fight him. She only had eyes for Fenris as the mage stood over her, ready to blast her with a bolt of spirit, but the spell dissolved in his hands and a foot of steel suddenly burst from his chest, showering Hawke in blood. The Qunari mage fell to reveal Knight-Commander Meredith, looking like an avenging angel in armor that shone as though it had never known a battle.

Hawke stood, determined to face this foe on her feet. She would gladly fall to the Qunari, but never to Meredith. Her own life would end soon enough, but not before she killed this oppressor of mages. She reached deeply into her mana pool; Meredith could not drain her, not without help

"There is no need for that, Hawke." Meredith said. "Yes, I know you. Your name has come up many times in my reports. I am willing to overlook your being a mage for the moment. We face a greater foe."

Hawke felt a rough hand pull her away from the Knight-Commander, and her back was suddenly pressed against a warm, hard chest. "You will not threaten her again. You will continue to overlook her magic, or face the Qunari alone. I do not think you will win."

Hawke felt her breath catch in her throat, and hot tears sprung from her eyes as that warm velvety voice wrapped itself around her, kissing her ears. She was afraid to look, afraid it was a trick. Her mind had finally snapped.

Meredith eyed the couple hard before giving a grudging nod. "The Qunari are too great a threat to ignore." She turned her back on them and strode on toward the Keep.

Fenris tightened his arms around Hawke. "She lies. Do not trust her." He whispered, his lips brushing her ear softly.

Another sob escaped her, and she could feel herself trembling. "How?" She nearly choked on the word as she turned to face him, drinking in the sight of him. His face was pale, his eyes bright with some emotion she couldn't name. Maker, he'd never looked so beautiful to her as he did now. For a moment the Qunari were forgotten and Hawke threw her arms around Fenris' neck. She could feel him shaking nearly as hard as she was as he crushed her against his chest and buried his face in her hair.

"Anders. Anders found me and brought me back."

Hawke looked at the mage over Fenris' shoulder, and he gave her a tired smile that was both sad and relieved.

"Come on." Anders said, sounding almost embarrassed. "We have a Qunari leader to kill and a Knight-Commander's nose to rub in it.

_He is alive. _Hawke thought, tremulously, but that feeling - the despair, the loneliness, the crushing guilt - it wouldn't fade. It grew stronger every time she looked at him, every time she felt him looking at her. _Too close. That was too close. Isabella was right to run away. I can't protect her. I can't protect anyone. _She made a decision then. She attracted danger. If she could pull them through this, she would distance herself from the rest of them. It was the only way to keep them safe. _How many lives would have been spared if I'd learned this lesson sooner? It will hurt less to lose them this way._

**oOo**

"Maybe you should be ruling Kirkwall." Varric said to Hawke, under his breath. "I've never heard of anyone persuading the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter to work together."

"I don't know if persuade is the right word." Hawke growled. They had argued until Hawke was ready to smack their heads together. "Still, desperate times call for desperate measures, and Orsino did get us into the Keep."

So it was that while Meredith and Orsino were occupied with the ongoing threat outside the Keep, Hawke kicked open the door to the throne room, leaving behind her in the main hall a pile of Qunari corpses. The Viscount had been slain, and the nobles huddled together like frightened mice waiting for Qunari cats to eat them. The Arishok did not seem surprised to see her, nor did he seem upset over the loss of so many of his men.

"Shanedan, Hawke." He greeted her pleasantly - if a giant, horned, tattooed monster threatening to enslave your people could be called pleasant.

"Become our slaves or we'll kill you." Hawke mocked. "You have more in common with the Tevinters than you care to admit…And the Chantry, and the rest of the world. Your entire civilization is structured around slavery, even if you call it by another name. You have an undeserved sense of superiority. Certainly, you are entitled to your opinion, but it is not your place to judge us."

The Arishok's face darkened with anger. "Enough. Prove yourself, basra, or kneel with the rest of your brethren."

Hawke sighed as the Qunari Honor Guard advanced. The Arishok was very conservative when it came to his own life, but he did not hesitate to throw away his men. How many of them had she killed already? They numbered in the hundreds at least. That did not include her companions. Rivers of blood ran through the streets of Kirkwall, and she was tired. Hefting Freedom's promise, she cleared he mind of thought, and worked her forms methodically.

_Pull of the Abyss, Cone of Cold, Fist of the Maker. _The Honor Guard was dead. Her companions hadn't even had time to ready their weapons.

"Parshaara. You are basalit-an after all. Few in this city command such respect. You know I am denied Par Vollen until the Tome of Koslun is found. Tell me: How would you see this resolved without it?"

"I believe I can answer that." Came an arrogant voice from the door, followed by a collective gasp of surprise from the crowds of nobles. Isabella preened under the attention; she loved a dramatic entrance. She presented the Tome of Koslun to the Arishok with a flourishing bow. "I think you'll find it's mostly undamaged." She turned to Hawke. "Sorry it took so long to get back. I was halfway to Ostwick before I knew I had to turn around. This is your damned influence, Hawke."

Selene turned to the Arishok. "Leave." She growled, softly.

"The relic is reclaimed. I am free to return to Par Vollen." He agreed. "With the thief. She stole the Tome. She must return with us to face punishment."

Hawke's eyes were green ice. "No." She said, flatly.

"Then you leave me no choice. I challenge you, Hawke. A battle to the death, with her as the prize."

"What? No-"

Hawke raised a hand to silence Isabella. "I accept." _About damned time. _

Fenris stepped forward. "Arishok, I request to fight as Hawke's champion."

"No." They said, together.

"You are not basalit-an. You are unworthy." The Arishok explained.

Hawke couldn't make herself look at Fenris. Did he think she would send him to die in her place? The Arishok had runes carved into his armor that would make him resistant to magic. Not immune, but the Qunari leader had the clear advantage. He carried two bastard swords as though they were no more than daggers.

"You are faster than I expected." Hawke said casually, ducking under the swing of one massive sword.

"I am not Arishok because I am soft or slow."

"Do Qunari gamble? I'll wager I'm more practiced than you." She thrust Freedom's Promise into an open spot in the armpit of his armor, burning him badly before he was able to spin away.

"You have killed many of my men, and you are tired. That is the problem with using mages as weapons. Swords and spears never grow weary."

"I suppose this is true." Hawke agreed, deflecting his sword with her staff. "But this is a battle for you, and it's just another day for me. Swords and spears do not have any power on their own. They do not have hope or determination, nor a desire to protect the people they care about. You categorize and label your people, ignoring their talents and their dreams. Even your own cannot stand the weight of your yoke. Your race is doomed to fail."

"The Qun will endure." The Arishok growled, spotting an opening in Hawke's defenses. He thrust forward with his sword, lifting her high above his head. "You, however, will not live to see another sunrise."

It didn't hurt. That surprised her. But she had failed again, and it wasn't just her loved ones who would suffer for it. It was all of Kirkwall. Hawke choked on the thought, spitting a mouthful of blood in the Arishok's face. She couldn't breathe, her vision began to darken, and she looked at her opponent as if through a tunnel.

_I suppose I will die now. _The thought came slowly, without fear or pain or confusion, but another thought in a different voice, a more urgent voice shouted over it. _I know it is painful, love, but we must never give up._ Hawke grew angry at that. How dare he? She'd never given up on anything in her life! She may die today, but by the Maker, she would not leave all these people to be enslaved by a Qunari madman.

The Arishok's eyes widened as Hawke began to draw upon her magic once again. Like in the Chantry, she pulled and pulled until she had enough to reduce Kirkwall to dust, and she stretched for more. The blue flame licked its way up her palm again, brighter than before, more substantial. She reached out and stroked the Arishok's face gently, almost as if he was her lover. The flame spread slowly to his skin, consuming his body. His hand twitched and he dropped his sword with Hawke still impaled upon it. The jolt of the landing drew a ragged gasp from her, and her vision was momentarily restored. A crystal Arishok stood over her, shock frozen on his face, his mouth open in a scream that never came. Clinging to thin threads of consciousness, mustering the last of her strength, she swung her leg around to topple the Arishok, sending thousands upon thousands of broken bits of glass scattering across the floor. The tunnel reclaimed her, but this time it was Anders' face looming in the distance, the light of healing glowing in his hands.

"A-Anders…n-n-no…" Blood leaked from the corners of her mouth.

His eyes widened, and he hesitated for the space of a heartbeat. Too long. Fenris drew his sword, his tattoos flared to life. "Heal her now, or follow her to the grave." He commanded softly.

"Like I need you to tell me that." Anders snapped. "You will have to pull the sword out."

Fenris knelt before her, but she did not see him. "I am sorry." He pulled the sword out, but she did not feel it, did not scream. There was only the death rattle.

_*Author's note*_

_I very seriously considered ending the chapter here, but I'm not a _complete_ bitch._

_Back to the story:_

And then there was light and color and sound. There was breath and life, and Hawke gulped it down greedily. Fenris was pulling her to her feet and wrapping strong arms tight around her. She could almost hear his heart pounding through his armor.

"I am sorry, Selene." He grated against her ear. "I know you are tired, but I can't let you go. You cannot leave me here alone."

Hawke leaned into his embrace, fresh tears stinging her eyes. He'd heard her. Maker, she hadn't even known he was there. "I'm sorry, Fenris. I am so sorry." She didn't know if she was apologizing for giving up, or because she knew she was going to have to push him away later.

"Hawke, I-"

Hawke turned a sharp green glare on Isabella. "You." She growled, disentangling herself from Fenris, who didn't want to let her go. She marched over to the pirate, grabbed a fistful of her necklaces, and pulled her forward until their faces were only inches apart. "You caused all this!"

She smacked her forehead hard into Isabella's nose, breaking it. Hawke smiled. Isabella liked entrances, but she liked head-butting people. Disoriented as she was, Isabella swung to defend herself, only to have her fist caught it Hawke's iron grip. Her head snapped back as Hawke smashed her fist into her face once, twice, three times.

"How many lost their lives because a selfish tart waited until the last second to do the right thing? For years you've lied to me while a storm brewed over Kirkwall! Fenris almost-" Her voice broke. "Do you think I'm just going to forgive you?"

Isabella tried to fight back, tried to defend herself, but Hawke was too fast. She was going to beat her to death, and nobody would raise a hand to stop her. Hawke aimed a well-placed kick to her midsection and she doubled over, gasping for air.

"Why did you even come back? Could it have turned out any worse?" Hawke had known it would come down to open combat between her and the Arishok; the end would have been the same with or without Isabella, but her patience had finally given way to fury. This trollop would have gotten Fenris killed if Anders had not been there. Thousands of others in Kirkwall had not been so lucky. Years of turmoil could be laid at this one woman's feet, and she had to answer for it.

"Hawke, wait!" Isabella croaked through the pain of cracked ribs. She held up her hands in a gesture of peace, but Hawke wrenched them around until she thought her wrists might break, and smacked her head against hers again, knocking some teeth loose this time. Maker, she was fast. Isabella wondered why she bothered with magic at all. She certainly didn't need it. She hadn't managed to land a single blow against her yet. She didn't want to fight Hawke, but she wasn't going to lay down and die for her either. When her hands were free she reached for her blades, only to find that her legs had become tangled in Hawke's staff. She lost her footing, landing hard on her back.

"Weapons, Isabella? Do you think that will help you?" Hawke did not even sound winded.

"N…no." She sobbed, curling into a ball and protecting her head with her arms. She was smart enough to know when she had been trounced.

Hawke made a disgusted sound and knelt next to the pirate. She rested a gentle hand in her hair and healed her. "You deserved that, you know." She looked at Fenris. "I would have killed you if he died." She whispered for Isabella's ears only. "Betray me again, and I will kill you. Do not doubt it." She turned her back on the pirate to face Meredith, who had just come charging through the door with a sizeable company of Templars.

"Is it over?" She demanded.

"It's over." Hawke confirmed, tightening her grip on her staff, and reaching for her magic. It came slowly; the Templars were already draining her. Why wouldn't they? Everyone in Kirkwall knew what she was now. She had just demonstrated her power to great effect. _So I survive this only to be taken to the Gallows._ She though, wryly.

Meredith eyed the mage standing before her. This was as dangerous a creature as she had ever met, and she could not deny the prickle of fear that crept up her spine as she regarded the remains of the Arishok. This woman had been known to consort with blood mages and abominations, but not even a whisper of corruption attached itself to her name. Indeed, she had even co-operated with Thrask over the matter of the Starkhaven mages a few years ago. None of that negated the fact that she was far too powerful to be allowed to roam free.

But not here. She had just saved some of the most important people in the Free Marches from certain death, and everyone else from slavery. They did not care that she was a disgusting mage, that she must shine like a beacon to the demons of the Fade. They looked upon her with awe, with gratitude, with approval - not a hint of fear among them. Meredith grudgingly sheathed her sword.

"It appears Kirkwall has a new champion." She said. The tartness of her face could sour grapes.

Hawke jumped a little when a resounding cheer rose behind her. Fenris wrapped a supportive arm around her waist, and she leaned into him, needing his strength. She didn't know how much longer she could stay on her feet. Exhaustion was finally overtaking her.

"I am taking you home, Selene." He whispered. "You need rest, love."

"Jethann…" She mumbled, without thinking.

Fenris clenched his jaw. "No. I almost lost you twice tonight. It is too much for a man to bear. I am not letting you out of my sight. You will have to suffer my protection this evening."

Hawke nodded meekly. She had no desire to let him go, either. One night wouldn't hurt anything. She wanted to remain friendly with everyone - especially Fenris. She didn't have to cut him out of her life completely to protect him, did she? It would be enough to run solo missions, wouldn't it? If he did not follow her into danger, he would be safe, wouldn't he?

_From everyone but Danarius. _She reminded herself bitterly. Danarius was another storm that loomed over the horizon, with no way to tell when or how he would come. She had no personal fear of the man, but Fenris did. She wanted to seek him out and confront him herself, but none of her contacts could seem to find him. It was becoming increasingly difficult to formulate a plan of attack.

"What are you thinking so hard about?" Fenris asked, gently touching her brow where it had become furrowed.

"Killing Danarius." Hawke murmured, fumbling to unlock the door of the estate where she now lived alone, but for her servants.

"I don't think he'll be troubling us tonight. You let me worry about him. You need to sleep now. You're safe. We're safe." He led her up the stairs to her bedroom, turning her around so he could unlace the corset biding her robes. The dress was badly torn now, and was still sticky with her blood.

"We won't always be safe. Everywhere I go I bring death with me. I've lost nearly everyone who's ever been close to me. I nearly lost you today. You should leave, Fenris. Don't look back."

"And go where? Trust whom?" He asked, becoming angry. "This is as close as I've come to having a real life, and I won't turn my back on it, on you. You don't have to protect me, Selene. I have some skill of my own. Perhaps not as much as you. Where did you learn to fight like that?"

Hawke smile faintly. She knew he was changing the subject. She sighed deeply when the corset finally came loose. She raised her arms so Fenris could pull her robes over her head. "Carver taught me." She said, turning to face him, clad in only her shift. "After I was kidnapped, he thought it would be a good idea to teach me to defend myself without magic. I wasn't strong enough to carry a sword like his, so he taught me what he could with a dagger, taught me hand-to-hand combat. The rest I picked up from watching all of you fight. Isabella is overly confident, and not as fast as she'd like people to think. I am not helpless without magic, it's just the ability that comes most naturally to me."

Fenris stared down at her as she turned her attention to the buckles of his armor. There was no heat to their undressing, only tenderness, but he could not help but notice how soft she looked, how feminine in a simple, sea-green shift. Her face was bent to her task, and he threaded his fingers through her short, silky hair. His heart broke for her. Fighting or running, that was what her life had been, just like his, and she was planning to run away again. He could see it in the way she wouldn't meet his eyes. She would try to avoid him again after tonight. She had convinced herself it was the right thing.

When his armor finally fell away, Fenris lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bed. It felt to natural, so right to lay her down, to stretch our next to her, lean over her, kiss her softly - the barest brush of his lips against here. It was too soon, but he wondered if she would ever forgive him, if she would ever admit that she needed him as much as he needed her. She had vowed to stand beside him, but she had never said the words he truly wanted to hear.

"Sleep now, Hawke. I will see you through this night, as I was meant to." He gathered her into his arms and breathed her in, sighing shakily when her hand traveled up his shirt to stroke his back. He had to remind himself that he was a gentleman when he felt her wriggle closer to him, twining her legs with his. His eyes drifted closed and he began to feel like a whole person again.

Slumber rolled over them like a drug, carrying them off to dreams of a world in which they could live and love truly.

When Fenris woke, Hawke was gone. It was still dark out; he couldn't have been asleep for more than three hours. He frowned, rising from the bed and collecting his armor. There was a fierce wind howling outside that told him she had taken her guitar to the Wounded Coast.

It was a moonless night, darker than black, and Fenris sighed inwardly. There were bound to be bands of rogue Qunari, Tal-Vashoth still prowling the countryside. Why did she have to take these unnecessary risks when he knew her body must be screaming for rest? Of course, he already knew the answer. She had spent so many years keeping the truth of her kidnapping a secret; with no one to talk to, her music had become an emotional outlet, and she had used it to create something hauntingly beautiful. Too many things had happened to her too quickly, her mind must still be reeling from it. He knew his was. Still, she should have asked him to come with her. Didn't she know he would follow her to the ends of the earth? He had promised to protect her! He'd thought she would give him more than three hours to do it. He'd thought they would have the night together before she locked herself away from him again.

He found her in her usual spot, standing alone on that huge rock, looking smaller than ever. He pulled a hood up over his hair and climbed silently into the tree. He knew she wanted to be alone, but it was too late once her fingers brushed the strings. The wind blew hot and hard across the water, stirring up eddies of fireflies around her. She played softly, darkly, building intensity until she turned her face toward the sky and began to sing. Fenris felt fire race through his veins, and he had to fight to keep his tattoos from responding. This was a song of unapologetic violence and blood, and it woke the beast in him. This was the price you paid for crossing them. It was determination, it was their anthem. No holds barred, the struggle went on, but the lines never blurred. Not for them. Their path was righteous and true, but fraught with peril, and they would face it together, defiant.

The song ended abruptly, and Hawke stood shaking, gulping down great breaths of air. Her eyes seemed to absorb the light from the storm she had crated, and from his perch in the tree, Fenris could see the heart-wrenching sadness reflected there. He wondered briefly if he should go to her, make himself known, but she began to play again. There was no mistaking that this song was about the two of them. He thought his heart might burst with joy even through the hopelessness of it all. She wanted him, he knew that, but it wasn't until today that he knew she felt the same way he did - that their lives would be hollow and meaningless without each other.

Fenris felt a tear slip down his cheek when he realized she was willing to sacrifice their happiness to see him alive. She truly believed in her heart of hearts that she would fail him - that she could fail him. Aveline had told him once that Carver and Leandra had blamed Hawke for Bethany's death, and it was no secret that Selene blamed herself for her brother, her mother, and for Seamus. There was so much sorrow, so much guilt brewing inside of her that she'd convinced herself that she would have to add his name to that list.

Fenris climbed down from his tree and made his silent way back to Hightown. He would return to Selene's home - she would expect him to be there, but he held no hope in his heart for the future. If she would cut out her heart to save him, he could do no less. He would not leave her - never that, but he would do his best to respect her wishes. He would give her the distance she would demand, but she was a fool if she thought he would not watch over her silently, from the shadows. He knew she would do the same for him. He smiled. She thought he didn't know she'd been searching for Danarius behind his back, that some of her contacts were actually his.

The situation wasn't perfect, but she had given him the words he wanted so badly, even if she didn't know it. It had to be enough. As long as she was alive, it would be enough.

**END ACT 2**

**SONGS**

**No Quarter - Tool **(Yes, I know it was a Zeppelin song originally, but Tool puts a whole new spin on it.)

**This Close - Flyleaf**

**There For You - Flyleaf**


	21. Chapter 21

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

_I felt like the end of my last chapter fell a little flat, so here, for your entertainment, is __**FENRIS AND HAWKE DOING IT**__. If that's not your thing, don't read any further, because you won't find much more in the following pages...A little, but not much._

**Tonight**

Fenris cradled his head in his hands, wondering how much longer he could go on. He had told himself he would give Hawke the space she wanted, and with the exception of that one night, he had kept his promise.

It was the memory of that night that haunted him. He'd behaved like an animal, humiliated her, made her beg. He returned to Hawke's bedroom and stripped himself of his armor planning to go back to sleep, but sleep wouldn't come. He wandered into her library, perusing her selection of books. His reading had improved enough that he no longer needed her help with the more difficult words. He was looking for a specific volume now. He had seen her flipping through it before, and became intrigued when she told him he would not be interested in it, then promptly put the volume away. It was untitled, bound in soft red leather, sandwiched between two large and tedious looking books regarding etiquette.

When he pulled it from the shelf, several pages came loose and fluttered to the floor. He picked them up quickly, half afraid she would come home now to find him doing something he shouldn't. The top page revealed a picture of a man's face. He felt a stab of jealousy before he realized that it was a picture of Hawke's father. She had the same slanted eyes, the same shrewd intelligence in the facial expression. Looking closer at the man, Fenris saw that there were faces reflected in his eyes. It was the rest of the Hawkes. Selene and Leandra stared out of one eye, Carver and a young girl he assumed was Bethany gazed at him from the other. It was the most haunting family portrait he had ever seen.

The next page made his hands shake and bile rise in his throat. It was Hawke, but her face was battered, a broken nose, missing teeth, one of her eyes was swollen nearly shut, the other had no emotion, no light, no intelligence at all. Her only ornament was a perfect brand of Tranquility emblazoned on her forehead. He wanted to throw it in the fireplace, deny that it was a possible future for her, deny that it had nearly happened to her already. He shuddered to think that this is what lurked in her mind.

The third page was a picture of him, although the man on the paper was far more handsome than he was, kinder, and there was something different about his tattoos. These tattoos matched his perfectly, anyone would say so, but there was something in the curvature that suggested love, not possession. Sketched lightly in the background was a green-eyed wolf that carried the same markings. The beast was fierce, but not threatening. It seemed more like a protector, a guide. Was this how she saw him? Did the other picture reflect the way she saw herself?

There were many pictured of him in her sketchbook, reading, sleeping, fighting. When he came to a picture of the two of them, his heart skipped a beat. They stared into each other's eyes, her face was turned up toward his, his hand cupped her cheek, his long fingers threading through her hair. They were frozen that way, a breath away from kissing. Fenris thought it was the perfect analogy for their entire relationship. He tore the page away and tucked it into his pocket. He had no opportunity to look further; he could hear Hawke entering the house. Tucking the book back where he found it, he hurried down the stairs to meet her. It was too late to pretend to be sleeping.

Hawke froze when she saw Fenris standing before the fire, an unreadable expression on his face. "I didn't want to wake you." She said, apologetically.

He did not say anything. Instead he strode forward and kissed her hard, angrily, passionately, releasing all of the love, all of the frustration that had been building inside him in the moths that had passed since he left her. It was the biggest mistake of his life, and he could do nothing to change it, but he could not see her shut herself away without showing her how he felt. He did not know how he would live the rest of his life without her, but they would have tonight.

Selene tried to resist him at first, stiffening with shock under his hard mouth, trying to push him away. Fenris only growled and pulled her closer, forcing her mouth open so he could taste the sweetness within. He swallowed her soft gasp as he stroked her tongue with his, and she sagged against him, clinging to his strong arms for support.

"Fenris, we can't." She whimpered, even as she tilted her head to give him better access to her neck.

"I know." He said, bending her back over his arm, pressing her body flush against his, hating the barriers of clothing between them. Maker, she was soft. He heard the soft whisper of fabric and realized he had torn her robes. The soft linen pooled in shreds at her feet, and his hands were free to explore her body. His fingers traveled down her hip and between her legs to stroke her moist heat. He felt the tip of his proud erection jump when Selene moaned his name, sucking his earlobe into her mouth. They weren't going to make it to the bedroom.

He pulled her into the library and slammed the door so none of the servants would see them. Perversely, he hoped Anders would be able to hear them from the cellar. He was grateful to the mage for his life, but that didn't change the fact that the man was in love with Selene - a fact Fenris found intolerable.

His jealous thoughts vanished from his mind when he felt her fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. Pulling the offending garment over his head, he pressed Hawke against the door, shuddering when he felt the sting of her nails travel down his back, curving around his abdomen to the waistband of his pants. They were open and falling to the floor faster than he could believe, and her fingers were curled tight around his manhood, stroking him in a teasing rhythm that promised more than she offered.

Growling aggressively, Fenris lifted her high against him, burying his face in her breasts. Curling his rough tongue around her nipple, he suckled hard, drawing a soft cry from her. It wasn't enough. Fusing his mouth to hers once more, her thrust into her hard, shaking the door in its frame. He groaned and fought not to spend himself right then. She was more than ready for him, hot, and tighter than his own skin. He thrust forward, pushing her hips down, as if by driving himself deeper into her, he could leave a piece of himself with her. He gripped the back of her neck with one hand, forcing her to meet his fierce green gaze.

"I know what you are planning, Selene." He grated, slamming into her again, nipping the corner of her jaw when he felt her inner walls contract upon him.

"I have to." She whispered in a voice that was half gasp and half sob. "I can't-" *moan* "What happened-" *moan* "I can't lose you that way Oh, Maker, yes, just like that…" She rolled her hips against his and buried her face in his neck.

Fenris could feel her magic building, resonating with the lyrium in his skin, and he knew that her climax was nearly upon her. "Not yet." He purred against her lips, and immediately withdrew, lowering her gently so her feet touched the floor. He wanted this to last all night, but knew he could not withstand the earth-shattering force of her orgasm.

Hawke gasped with shock over the sudden emptiness within her. Leaning against Fenris, shaking and panting heavily, she reached down to stroke him again, but he stopped her, pinning her hands above her head. Trapped between him and the door, Selene stared up at him through a haze of love and lust and confusion, and Fenris felt as though he might drown in the deep and endless ocean of her shimmering green eyes.

But for his hands clamped around her wrists, he did not allow their bodies to touch, making slow love to her with his eyes instead. He smiled tenderly when she blushed under the heat of his gaze, and leaned in, allowing his mouth to travel the same path his eyes had taken. He kissed her full lips softly, and she opened for him, but he only flicked her lips with the tip of his tongue before moving lower to press hot kisses along the column of her throat, nipping lightly at her collarbone and dropping to his knees before her.

Hands freed, Selene's fingers speared through his hair, her thumbs brushed the pointed tips of his ears, and she asked him in a shy whisper to take her again, to finish what he had started. He laughed huskily, denying her as his hands traced the gently curve of her hips, and pulled her heat against his eager mouth. He groaned into her when her fingers dug into his shoulders, and her gasp of surprise turned into a moan. He curled his tongue around that special little nub of flesh that could bring her so much pleasure, and suckled it gently. He slid one slender finger inside her, twisting as he withdrew and entered her again.

Fenris hummed his approval against her as he felt her fingernails rake the back of his neck and his shoulders. He could feel blood welling to the surface; he would carry those marks with pride. In spite of all she had been through, Selene was a passionate creature who responded readily to his touch, and he couldn't be more grateful for that. She was wild with him, uninhibited. She was herself. Only with him. He didn't want to tear himself away from her. He was starving for her climax, but not yet.

He rose, and Selene tried again to press her small body against his, but he forestalled her, taking her by the hand and leading her to stand before the fireplace. A faint sheen of sweat had broken out over his brow from the effort it took not to throw her down on the rug and ravish her. That was what he really wanted, and he knew she wanted it too, but he was going to burn this night into her heart. A hard rut on the floor would be satisfying, but it would not create a memory of pleasure that she would carry deep in her heart. It would not make her blush in remembrance every time she looked at him.

He took several deep, claming breaths as he stared at her in the soft glow from the hearth. His hands shook when he reached out to cup her face, allowing a thumb to trace her full lips, swollen from his kisses. His fingers trailed down her slender neck to rest on slim shoulders hard from tension. Fenris felt his brow furrow. She carried so much stress, and now, with the Viscount dead and the Qunari threat eradicated, Kirkwall would look to her for guidance.

"Lie down." He commanded, softly. "On your stomach." Selene opened her mouth to protest, frustration openly painting her features, but Fenris stopped her with a quick kiss. "Do as I say."

The corner of her mouth twitched into a half-smile and Fenris gulped hard as Selene sank gracefully to her hands and knees, peeking up at him playfully before stretching out on the rug. He knelt down beside her, and with expert hands, he began to work the tension out of her muscles, smiling when he drew soft sighs of contentment from her. She looked over her shoulder at him, knocking the breath from his lungs with her glittering green eyes.

"Where did you learn that?" She breathed, stretching languorously under his hands.

Fenris hesitated before telling her the truth. "Hadriana made me do this for her every night." He pressed his hand on the center of her back to stop her from rising. "I am doing this because I want to, Selene. It is different with you."

"Did she…make you…do…other things?" She asked in a small voice.

Fenris scoffed. "No. There wasn't an aphrodisiac in the world that could make me desire that woman." He leaned forward until his lips brushed her ear, allowing his manhood to slide along the cleft of her bum cheeks, issuing a delicious gasp from her. "Not like you."

"Why not? She was beautiful." She asked, when he allowed her to turn over. She stretched again, displaying her body proudly before him.

"She wasn't beautiful, she was evil." He argued, massaging her ribcage. He smiled when she arched her back, urging his hands upward. "Anything I did for her was because she forced me. You saw me as a free man even when I didn't see myself that way. You are nothing like her."

"We are both mages." She writhed under his touch.

"Even in that, you are worlds apart. You are pure, Selene. I've never felt magic like yours - from a good mage, a good woman. I have never met the like of you. Sometimes I think I was waiting for you. But enough. There are better things we could be doing." He moved his hands upward to cover her breasts, rolling her nipples between her fingers.

"Mmm…Done teasing?" She purred.

"Not even close."

Selene growled and sat up, pushing Fenris back and straddling his narrow hips so she could impale herself upon him once again. He was having none of it. He twisted so that his shaft only bushed against her hot center. It was the sweetest torture he'd ever known. He didn't know how much longer he could keep this up, but he vowed that he was not finished with her yet, and he wasn't going to let her finish it for him.

"This is my game to play, Selene." He admonished, rolling her onto her back once more. "It's not over until I say."

"Domination?" She asked, leaning up to run her tongue along the shell of his ear, biting down gently when she reached the pointed tip. "I think I like this side of you. So…commanding."

Fenris loved and hated her playful words. She set fire to his blood even as he rent his heart in two. She teased and bantered with him as if she didn't know he would wake to find the world a colder, darker place. He kissed her hard, twining his fingers with hers and settling himself between her thighs. He thrust his tongue into her mouth and positioned himself at the opening of her tight channel, but did not enter right away. Selene wrapped her legs around his hips and moaned into his mouth when he eased his way forward by slow increments. He did not give her his full length, though he thought the effort might kill him.

"Fenris, please…" She gasped, when he began to withdraw.

"Please what?" He asked, holding himself very still. His manhood jumped and bucked in protest.

Selene moaned in frustration, arching her back, trying to take more of him, but he retreated. "I can feel how much you want me." She panted. "Why are you doing this?"

Fenris tangled his fingers in her short hair, making a fist, forcing her to look him in the eye again. "Because I cannot have you, love, and you should know what that is like."

"Do you think I do not?" She whispered, harshly. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye. "I am trying to protect you."

"You made the decision for both of us. You are protecting yourself." _You are a coward._ The words hung unspoken between them for the breadth of a heartbeat before he thrust home, filling her completely and effectively putting an end to any coherent speech.

Wrapping one arm around her back, he lifted her, moving so that she was sitting on his lap, her legs still wrapped around his waist. Staring deeply into her eyes, he began to move inside her, slowly at first, until she was clawing at his shoulders again, whimpering, begging without words to end his sweet torment. He chuckled warmly and brushed his lips against hers, flicking her upper lip with his tongue. His movements slowed and Selene screamed his name in frustration. Her forehead dropped against his shoulder and she trembled violently in his arms.

"I am sorry, Fenris." She whispered. "I am sorry for what I have done to you, to us, but I cannot turn back now. I need you to be safe, alive. I'll do anything to meet that end. I love you."

Fenris felt his breath catch in his throat. _I love you._ She had said it. To him. He leaned forward, gently pushing Selene back so he could search her face. Her eyes were sea green, open, vulnerable. All of the joy and the pain he had ever inflicted on her was reflected there. The whole world lived in her gaze, wisdom beyond time. He could see the Maker in her eyes, and he felt that tightness in his chest finally break. Peace like he had never known flooded through him, cleansing him. She had finally given herself to him. Completely. She loved him. It was enough.

"You are my reason for being. There is no one else; not for me. I will wait for you, Selene. My life is yours."

She leaned forward then, and kissed him hungrily, as though she could drink him in. Wrapping her arms tight around him, she pressed her breasts against his hard chest and rolled her hips insistently. "Please, Fenris…" She gasped against his ear.

She chanted the words over and over again as she rode him hard, crying our sharply when he pushed her into a reclining position, allowing him to thrust more deeply. He dipped his head to take one erect nipple into his mouth, suckling hard. One of his hands wandered up to curl tenderly around her throat, his thumb lazily circled the spot where he could feel her erratic pulse. He could feel her climax building once again, and she began to whimper, begging him urgently not to stop. With long hard strokes, he pushed himself deeper and deeper into her until they were locked together. His lyrium tattoos flared to life as she engulfed him in her magic, her essence. She cried his name again and again as her orgasm crashed over them, contracting upon him painfully, demanding his own release. He could not hold back any longer. Riding the cresting wave of her climax, he felt her in his skin, his blood, his bones. Their hearts beat as one. They were one being, one soul. Fenris groaned broken words of love into her ear as he cradled her gently convulsing body in his arms, spurting his white-hot seed high inside her, praying that life would take root there. He fell back to the floor, Selene sprawled across his chest with a lusty sigh. They lay that way for a long while, and he gently stroked her back, wishing for the sun to never rise again.

They made love many more times that night, hard and urgent, slow and sweet, and even managed to make it to the bedroom; but dawn still rose, cold and vicious, and Fenris woke to find himself alone. He had known it would be this way. Anything they might have said to each other would have been both awkward and wasteful. He had made himself clear, and so had she.

Hawke proved to be as good as her word. She no longer asked for his help, or anyone else's, for that matter. She traveled alone now, with no one to watch her back or know if she fell. She evaded his watchers, as well as Varric's, and he could no longer find her when she went out to play her guitar. If it weren't for her infrequent visits to the Hanged Man, Fenris would have believed she vanished. He was certain that Jethann was the only one who saw her with any regularity, and that was only because his scouts were able to confirm that he stayed in his room at the Rose, but took no appointments the same day of every week. That was when Hawke came, Fenris was sure of it.

It wasn't right, stalking her this way, and Fenris thought be would feel more guilty about it if his efforts had yielded better results. The only way she would allow any of them to fight alongside her was if they came to her with a problem and provided adequate reason to join her. They worked together harder than ever to find a way into her missions, but it was a losing battle. However pure their motives might be, she saw through it. She listened to their arguments, nodded in agreement over their concerns, then continued on as though their words were empty air.

Three years she had been doing this, three years since that night, and while Fenris had promised to respect her wishes, he wasn't sure how much longer he could go on like this. His eyes scanned the letter he's received that morning for the hundredth time, looking for clues, traps. He needed her help now, and if he told her he thought Danarius was involved, she could find a way to leave him behind. For his _protection._ He would be damned if he would let her go alone.

_Sorry it took so long to post such a short and fluffy chapter. I had some computer issues. The next chapter is well underway, and I have grounded myself from all other unnecessary activities. Still have to work and shower, though…_


	22. Chapter 22

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

_Castillon comes to Kirkwall…_

**No Rest for the Wicked**

Isabella had never been so nervous in her life. Her mouth was a desert. She had been avoiding Hawke as much as Hawke had been avoiding everyone else. She tried to act casual around the others, but she couldn't stand the way Hawke looked at her. She'd given her the thrashing of a lifetime, and then acted as though it never happened. There was no accusation in her eyes, no judgment; Isabella could not even detect a hint of mistrust in the mage. It was more than a little unsettling. The rest of her companions had repeatedly reminded her of the consequences of her actions, frustrated that they couldn't see her remorse. Fenris had been particularly harsh with her. He'd lost Hawke over this, and the wound she'd left on his heart didn't seem to be healing.

That was the worst part, knowing that she had ruined everything for them. Hawke blamed herself, naturally. She always did. Isabella had been wracking her brain for months trying to find a way to make this right, to make Hawke understand that pushing Fenris away - pushing everyone away was no solution. She had explained to them all that it was for their own safety, but Isabella personally felt the safest when she was charging into battle at Hawke's side, and she was willing to bet she wasn't the only one who felt that way. Where would any of them be without her help, her protection? This brought her full circle to the reason she was so nervous. She needed help, but first she needed to apologize.

Hawke was not home, but Bodahn bade Isabella come in to wait. The pirate leaped at the chance to snoop while Hawke's watchful eyes were focused somewhere else. She let herself into the library and flipped through the stack of papers on her desk. It was all pretty straightforward; mostly thank you notes from random strangers who had reaped the benefits of meeting Hawke. Decoy letters. There was nothing here to indicate any plans for the future, and nothing to show that she had done anything extremely dangerous recently. It was all too deliberate…Until she opened a drawer and saw something she shouldn't have.

"Oooohh, what's all this?" Isabella was shocked. She held a charcoal picture of Hawke and Fenris tangled in the sheets. The details were exquisite. Her long legs were twined with his, her fingers were digging into his muscular, tattooed shoulder; his hand cupped the back of her neck, drawing her up for a kiss, revealing the tiniest hint of tongue. Isabella had to stifle a giggle. It was hard to imagine Hawke drawing dirty pictures! She was tempted to tuck the picture into her pocket. Fenris and Hawke made a striking pair, and she had imagined the two of them together, imagined joining them more than once. Still, this was the sort of thing that would be missed. She put it back.

"Oh, it's you." Hawke said from the doorway, making Isabella flinch. "Guess it's time to change the locks again."

There was no sting in her voice, so the pirate allowed herself a small smile. "It wouldn't help. Bodahn let me in. Apparently, dwarves aren't much for security."

Hawke regarded Isabella thoughtfully over her pipe. Isabella hated it when she did that. It made her feel exposed, as if the mage was sorting through her thoughts and picking out the ones that were useful. It was uncomfortable to feel like you had no secrets, especially when your last secret had done so much damage. Hawke took a long drag from her pipe and offered it to Isabella, who refused with a wave of her hand.

Heaving herself into a chair, the mage lazily puffed thick smoke rings toward the ceiling. "You don't like Hightown, do you, Isabella? Of course not. You only come here when you need something. I can't say I blame you. I don't like it here very much, either." She laughed softly. "I guess I should be careful what I wish for. So, Isabella needs my help. The Qunari have their relic back, so unless you're in more trouble than I know, that means Castillon is back in town. We should take the offensive, here. Do you have a plan?" Hawke's eyes were alight with interest.

"You're going to help me, then?"

Hawke seemed surprised by the question. "Of course I will help you. We are friends, aren't we?"

Isabella arched an eyebrow at her. "Are we? Do you call anyone friend anymore? You won't let us help you. You never talk to us or see us. Doesn't sound too friendly to me, Hawke."

"You know you can come to me if you need anything. You all know that. I just don't want you following me into danger. Tell me where Castillon is, and I'll take care of it."

She sounded so calm and reasonable that Isabella wanted to slap her. She wanted to slap that pipe right out of her hand it that's what made her act this way. It was infuriating. She'd been running from Castillon for six years, and Hawke thought to simply stroll down to the Docks and face him alone. She felt her jaw clench and began to understand why Fenris scowled so much.

"I'm not following you into anything. I'm leading; you and Fenris and Merrill will be following. They've agreed to work together on this. We've all chosen a life of action, Hawke, and you will not take that from us. Those are my terms. Accept them, or I'm leaving right now. You'll never beat me to him."

Hawke glared at Isabella, indignantly puffing away at her pipe. "You had this planned all along." She accused. _You knew. You knew I would not be able to stay away if you invited him._

"This part, yes." She admitted, sheepishly. "I need your help planning the rest."

Hawke leaned forward and gestured for Isabella to sit. "What have we got to work with?"

Isabella leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs, flashing thigh up to her hip. "It's too dangerous to attack Castillon directly, but there is a man at the Blooming Rose - Velasco. He's Castillon's right hand. I just don't know how to make him tell me where Castillon is."

"Wait. I thought you already knew where he was." Hawke said, narrowing her eyes.

"I know he is in Kirkwall. When you have as many enemies as Castillon has, you learn to hide well."

Hawke nodded thoughtfully and leaned back in her chair. Staring at nothing, she turned her pipe over and over in her hands, pausing every now and then to take a hit. She frowned as if she was arguing with herself, and spoke hesitantly.

"Castillon wants you." She said, still frowning at nothing. "Why not let Velasco bring you to him?"

A slow smile spread across Isabella's face. "And you'll follow behind? Ooh, that's clever. Much better than what I had planned."

Hawke snapped back to the present and looked at the pirate with interest. "What was your plan?" She asked.

Isabella blushed slightly under her gaze. "Riddle contest." She muttered, under her breath.

A bubble of laughter escaped Hawke and she clapped her hand over her mouth to stifle it. "Is this Velasco at the Rose right now?" She asked, her eyes still sparkling with amusement.

"He is." Isabella confirmed. "And before you get any ideas about doing this without reinforcements, you should know that Merrill and Fenris are at the Rose as well. I sent them ahead to make sure he doesn't leave…and to make sure you won't go by yourself."

"If you spent as much time trying to get to Castillon as you did trying to trap me, you wouldn't need my help at all." She said, with a smile to take the sting out of her words.

Isabella giggled. "Probably, but it wouldn't be half as much fun."

**oOo**

The sound of the blood mage's chirpy, cheerful voice grated on Fenris' nerves. The more he tried to block her out the louder she seemed to become, and she didn't want to talk about anything but Selene. Fenris wouldn't mind talking about Hawke, but not with Merrill and her mock sympathy. She was worse than Anders, who, thanks to their close proximity was able to see Hawke nearly every day. He was the closest line of contact they had with her, but the abomination wasn't talking, insisting that there was nothing to say.

"You're thinking of her right now, aren't you? I can't even begin to imagine how miserable you must be."

"I would be less miserable if you would quit your incessant babbling. A thought has only to enter your mind before it comes spewing from your lips."

Merrill allowed herself a small smile. "I hear she still comes to see Jethann. It has been three years, now. He's very handsome. Do you suppose they are lovers?"

"Do not make me strike you, witch. Your face would not survive the impact."

"Ooh, I don't think Hawke would like it very much if you hit me. Do you think she would tell you to leave? I probably wouldn't be that lucky."

Fenris snorted. "Probably not. I don't think she values your friendship that much. It seems to me that she's just keeping an eye on you. She has no love for blood mages, especially after what happened to her mother."

"She does not blame me for that!"

"No, just your kind. You justify your crimes by insisting that you know better than everyone else. You tell yourself that you know what you are doing, that you are a _good_ blood mage, but it always ends the same. I've seen it many times. The truth is that you are the weakest of your species. Mages like you are the reason the Circle exists, and the reason that mages like Hawke are tortured and raped. You disgust me."

"Well, don't sugar-coat it, Fenris. Tell her how you feel." Isabella interrupted, with an irritated glare for the elves. "I thought you said you would be able to work together."

"When the real work begins I'll stop berating her. You know, Hawke has many friends you could have invited instead. Why didn't you?"

"Because Merrill is my favorite." The pirate said, with a shrug.

"Then why is _he_ here?" Merrill asked, petulantly.

"Because Fenris is Hawke's favorite, and I was afraid she wouldn't come, otherwise. And because I enjoy looking at him."

"Where is Hawke now?" Fenris asked, uncomfortable with Isabella's leering gaze. "Why is she not with you?"

"Madame Lusene pounced on her as soon as she walked through the door. She would sell her firstborn to make the Champion's patronage public knowledge. Hawke will never allow it, of course, and I don't think Jethann is any fonder of the idea. He seems rather enchanted by the idea of watching over the Champion while she is most vulnerable. I think he'd do nearly anything to protect that position." Isabella stopped, realizing she'd said too much. She looked at Fenris - his jaw was clenched, his hands balled into fists at his sides. She sighed heavily. She hadn't meant to hurt the elf, but tact had never been her strong suit.

"He must be much better at it than Fenris." Merrill said, too sweetly. "He didn't even last-" Her words were cut off by Isabella's full-armed slap.

"You go too far, Merrill." The pirate said, softly. "There are some things you should never make light of. Perhaps it was a mistake to invite you."

Merrill looked horrified. And ashamed. She bowed her head and turned to Fenris. "Please forgive me." She whispered, her face flaming. "I have been provoking you deliberately, and I should not have. I am sorry."

Fenris inclined his head politely. "I…should not have risen to the occasion. There is nothing to forgive." The words tasted like ash in his mouth, but he knew they would have to work together if they were going to win Hawke back; not just for himself, but for all of them.

"That was nice." Isabella said. "Now both of you shut up. She's coming over."

"I need to start wearing disguises." A decidedly harried looking Hawke said, as she approached them. "Now that they call me Champion, it seems like everyone wants something."

Isabella laughed at that. "Everyone you meet wants something from you. The only difference is that now they know where to find you…And it doesn't matter what you do. You attract attention everywhere you go. You were born to it. Enjoy it."

Hawke chose to ignore that. "Velasco's room is upstairs?"

Isabella could barely contain her excitement. It felt good to be working together again. "The middle door. Listen, Hawke, Velasco's not stupid. We're really going to have to sell this. Call me names; even hit me; whatever it takes to make him believe. If you waver, he'll know, and Castillon will get away."

The corners of Hawke's mouth twitched into a smile. "I'm worried about you. You're enjoying this a little too much."

Isabella giggled. "I am, aren't I? Just make sure he brings me to Castillon. I'll leave a trail for you to follow."

Hawke eyed Fenris for a moment, her face heating when she realized she was staring at his mouth. She turned her gaze on Merrill. "The two of you wait here. Try not to be noticed, and find out which way they're going. Let me know if anyone else follows them. We have a plan, that doesn't mean they don't. We're playing a dangerous game." She turned to Isabella. "Are you sure about this? It's not too late to change your mind."

"Yes it is. If we leave now, we lose the element of surprise. I want to get him before he gets me."

Hawke nodded her agreement and took a deep breath, wondering if she was the only one who felt nervous. Something about this plan tickled her memory in a dark and foreboding way. Still, Isabella was right. Now was the time to strike. She kicked in the door to Velasco's room, giving the elven girl her had cornered time to escape.

"Skittish bitch." Velasco grumbled, turning a hard glare on Hawke. "You'd better have a damned good reason for-" His words cut off when he saw Isabella.

"I brought you a new plaything. Take it from me; this one doesn't have a timid bone in her body." She grabbed Isabella by the hair on top of her head and threw her down in front of Velasco.

Isabella landed hard on her knees, thankful she hadn't bitten her tongue off. "What the fuck, Hawke?" She shouted, outraged. She didn't have to feign the emotion. That landing _hurt._

Hawke laughed cruelly. "Are you as stupid as you look? Did you really think I would help you? After all the trouble you've caused me?"

Isabella wondered if this might have been a mistake after all when Hawke's face was suddenly inches from hers, her eyes blazing with green fire. She could feel the sting of Hawke's dagger at her throat.

"Do you think I do not see the way you look at him?" She growled, low enough that Velasco would have to strain to hear.

This was suddenly getting very real, and Isabella knew a moment of fear. She could not deny that she had made advances toward Fenris, and how not? The man was devilishly handsome, all lean muscle and stormy green eyes, but he only had eyes for Hawke, and everyone knew it. It was difficult to imagine her succumbing to jealousy, but…

"The second you told me Castillon was in town I saw my chance to be rid of you. By the Maker, it's almost too easy!" She laughed again, a wicked, twisted sound that sent chills down Isabella's spine and made her skin crawl.

Two of Velasco's thugs hauled Isabella to her feet and she spit full in Hawke's face, trying not to wince when it landed. "Backstabbing little bitch! I'll kill you! You'd better start sleeping with one eye open!"

Hawke casually backhanded Isabella with her ring hand. "I don't think you'll be my problem for very much longer - or anyone else's, for that matter. You're pretty, Isabella, and you can fight, but you're not smart. If Castillon lets you live, you'll probably be too maimed to be of any concern to me."

She turned her back on the pirate, not watching as they dragged her from the room. Velasco chuckled and tossed her a purse heavy with coin. Hawke had to fight herself not to throw him bodily from the room so that she might pursue.

"It's more than she's worth." He said. "Castillon will be pleased. He may even owe you a favor. You are very good at what you do, Champion."

"Are we done? I am a busy woman." She snapped.

"As you say." Velasco backed out of the room. Hawke waited the longest two minutes of her life before following. Fenris and Merrill waited for her outside the Rose.

"They are headed toward Lowtown. She's leaving a decent trail for us; I just hope Velasco doesn't notice. Subtlety has never been her strong suit." Fenris informed Hawke.

"She looked terrified." Merrill said, worriedly. "Are you sure it was okay to let her go with them?"

"She told me to sell it. I didn't think she'd actually believe it." She was hurt by the thought. There had been some bad blood between them, but she would never sell out a friend.

Hawke didn't speak as she set a hard pace after Isabella's trail. Fenris was more than a little concerned as he followed behind. It was difficult to keep up with her. Her face had gone white as a sheet and her eyes were too bright, almost feverish. Her brows had drawn together in thought she would not share with the rest of them. There was a hard set to her jaw, and Fenris remembered the last time they had followed such a trail and what had awaited Hawke at the end of it.

"It is not so hard to understand why she pushes us away, is it?" Merrill whispered, puffing along beside him. "You are thinking of Leandra right now, are you not? We will find a happier ending this time, I think."

"You were not there last time, Merrill. Happy end or no, it is the journey that will reopen old wounds. I could almost feel bad for Castillon when we find him. Almost. If he were not a slaver."

Hawke's thoughts raced like quicksilver. The sound of Merrill and Fenris talking softly behind her was no more than a faint buzzing in her ears. _This was a mistake._ The words repeated over and over again in her mind as she pounded toward the Docks. She couldn't seem to run fast enough. They hadn't given Velasco much of a head start, but she couldn't seem to catch up with him. She would never forgive herself if Isabella fell to harm because of her tardiness. It was hard to breathe around the lump in her throat, and she couldn't seem to swallow. What had possessed her to create a plan that so closely resembled the tail that led to her mother's death? Hawke wondered briefly if she wasn't just a little bit masochistic. That she was the author of her own pain, she could not deny; but it was getting harder and harder to remember why she did these things to herself. She had told herself a thousand times - a thousand times a thousand - that this was for their protection, but she had just sent Isabella into the arms someone who'd been after her blood for six years. Maker, what was wrong with her? She picked up her pace, confident that Fenris and Merrill would be able to keep up.

When they reached the Docks, Isabella's trail was sill plain as day, but there was not another living soul in sight; a fact Hawke misliked very much. Day or night, the Docks were always bustling with activity. Someone had cleared the area.

"Stay to the shadows." Hawke whispered. "Keep your eyes sharp and do not touch the trail. We are being watched."

"Does it matter?' Merrill chirped. "We are more than capable of meeting any threat."

"That does not mean we should invite unwanted attacks. Time is something of an issue, if you will recall." Hawke replied.

"Too late. The shadows stir." Fenris whispered, his eyes sliding toward the alley where he had spotted movement.

Hawke sighed heavily. "It was too much to hope they should seek another prey. We must be quick. Isabella's life hangs in the balance."

As if her words summoned them, men boiled from the alley, shouting their bloodlust. One voice rose above the rest. "Take them alive! We don't get paid for damaged goods!"

_Slavers_. Hawke thought with disgust. She flung her hand out, launching a fireball into the middle of them, engulfing them with flame before Fenris could reach them. She regretted not leaving any of them alive. She wouldn't mind knowing who sent them, or who they were after. Danarius was never far from her thoughts these days. She hadn't heard so much as a whisper carrying his name, but she couldn't shake the feeling that he was coming. _Something _was coming.

Fenris halted his charge midstep and turned to stare at Hawke, open-mouthed. "Leave some for the rest of us, Hawke." He said, and he was reminded of when they had first met. Varric had said that to her when he saw her cast her first spell. He remembered how his gut had clenched with unease because he knew, even then, that he would never leave her. He didn't have time to be enthralled by his memories, however, because just like the first time, Hawke was charging ahead, confident that the others would follow. And they did.

**oOo**

Velasco leaned in close and Isabella turned her face away. His breath smelled horrible - like sour ale and rotten fish. _Hawke is coming, _she told herself. _She is. She's no traitor._ She wished she didn't have to work so hard to convince herself. Hawke should leave her to her fate. She deserved no less.

"There is still time to work this out, Isabella. Cooperate, and I'll tell Castillon to go easy on you. Perhaps he will even grant you a clean death."

"Keep dreaming, pig." Isabella said, skirting around him. She wasn't going to let him back her into a corner. "Contrary to popular belief, I have standards."

"I don't think you understand the gravity of your situation." Velasco growled, grabbing her wrist and jerking her back. "I own you, bitch."

Something moved in the corner of Isabella's vision, and a wide smile spread across her face. "You think so?" She directed his attention to the balcony where Hawke was glaring at him with furious eyes.

"Of course." Velasco cursed. "It was all a little too easy. Kill them!"

The man wasn't entirely stupid, it seemed. He may not have known enough about the Champion to know she would never make a deal with the likes of him, but he'd come prepared for a trap. He had a few guards stationed in plain sight around Castillon's landing, and many more came bursting from supply rooms at his command - slavers and hunters every one.

Hawke and Fenris shared a vicious smile before vaulting themselves over the banister, avoiding the trap that had been laid at the bottom of the stairs. Fenris stuck his landing, swinging his sword hard into a rogue who'd set his sights on Hawke, who had somersaulted under his blade to stand behind Velasco, using her staff to flip him onto his back. She pinned him with a booted foot, digging her heel into his chest hard enough to hurt through his leather armor. She stared down at him, considering.

"Do you own slaves, Velasco? Do you trade in flesh?" She asked softly, dangerously. The man was not as smart as Isabella gave him credit for.

"Yes, of course I-" The rest of his admission was cut off by the butt of _Freedom's Promise_ slamming down to crush his windpipe.

Hawke prowled the battleground unopposed, her keen eyes observing all, putting to death those cowards who would slay her companions from the shadows. It felt good to watch their backs, to be part of a team again. It didn't change anything, though. She had still created a plan that placed Isabella in unspeakable danger, and Fenris and Merrill had followed right along with her, blindly trusting that she would see them safely through it. A dangerous gamble, in Hawke's estimation.

"Castillon is on his way." Isabella said when the last of the slavers had fallen at her feet. "We should look around. He could have come to Kirkwall any time in the past six years. I want to know why he's here now."

Hawke stared at the pirate for a long minute, agony painted across her delicate features, before pulling her into a fierce hug. A ragged sob ripped itself from her throat and she heaved a shuddering sigh of relief. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I should never have asked you to do this. You are safe? He didn't hurt you, did he?" She healed Isabella of the wounds she had inflicted at the Rose, but found no evidence of further harm.

Isabella was floored. She stared at Fenris and Merrill over Hawke's shoulder, her eyes wide with shock. She returned Hawke's embrace and gently stroked her hair. If she had been given a million years to guess, she never would have thought that _she_ would be the one offering comfort to her friend after a fight - just a skirmish, really. It was Fenris' look of agonized sympathy that reminded Isabella of Leandra, and her arms tightened convulsively around Hawke. Maker, she hadn't even noticed how the plan had paralleled one of the most harrowing experiences of Hawke's life. She'd been too concerned with saving her own skin.

"It's alright, Hawke, it's alright." Isabella soothed. "The plan couldn't have gone any better. Castillon is coming, and he thinks Velasco is holding me captive. He doesn't know you're here. We have the advantage. We're going to win this."

Hawke nodded and stepped back, taking a deep breath to collect herself. Then, as if the emotional scene a moment ago had never happened, she crouched down and searched Velasco's body for some indication of Castillon's plans. Merrill, Fenris, and Isabella set about doing the same with the other slaver corpses. While their search yielded nothing of Castillon, Velasco carried the key to a locked storeroom in the warehouse.

This proved to be a more promising lead. There was little of interest in the room; it was practically empty save for the padlocked chest on a wobbly table. Hawke wrapped her fingers around the lock, freezing it and jerking it free. There were a few coins inside, a handsome dagger, and several impeccably forged official seals, but it was the sheaf of papers that interested Hawke the most. The first page was a list of requirements:

_250 men aged 15 years - 50 years_

_250 women aged 12 years - 40 years_

_One gold sovereign per head upon delivery as agreed. The Master has a discerning eye, and an incentive will be added for attractive young men and women to serve in the pleasure districts._

Hawke fought not to crumple the note in her hands. For all she knew she was already too late to help these people, but late or no, Aveline would be interested to hear of Castillon scheming with nobles to introduce open slavery to the Free Marches. The note made no mention of who had hired him, but there were coordinates to a remote location near Sundermount where the exchange was to be made. If she followed the trail, there was bound to be clues. It would be impossible to move so many people without leaving a sign. She would find them. She had made Kirkwall her home - made the Free Marches her home. She would not allow the land to become tarnished by slavery again.

"Isabella! And here Velasco told me he had you tied up pretty as a present. I must admit, I found the message almost too fantastic to credit, yet here you are! And Velasco is splattered across my warehouse. He always did have more balls than brains. It's a shame to lose him, but he does make a pretty smear."

"Castillon." Isabella greeted the man coolly. "Up to the same dirty tricks, I see. You were more fun when you were just a thief."

"I am still fun." He protested, his eyes sliding over Isabella in a familiar leer. "There is no need to punish you. Hand over the papers and your three lovely companions, we'll avoid a lot of bloodshed, and everyone walks away happy. Well…_I'll_ be happy and you'll be alive. Isn't that what's really important?"

Hawke suddenly felt something very warm at her back. She didn't need to look to know that Fenris had done more than simply activate his tattoos. He was the Lyrium Ghost, and he would be no man's slave. Never again. A nearly imperceptible shake of her head cautioned him to stillness. Hawke was nearly as eager as he was to put an end to the slaver, but Isabella had not given him her answer yet. She stared at Castillon, seeming to consider his offer. Hawke was content to wait. Since meeting her, Isabella had made many mistakes, some bordering on betrayal, but she knew the pirate well enough to know that she valued freedom above all things.

"I could not give you my friends any more than you could take them. You didn't do your research, Castillon. Difficult as it may be for you to believe, you've gotten in over your head." Her voice was hard, cold, but the speculative light hadn't left her eyes. There was still a way to spin this to her advantage.

"I appreciate your concern, my dear, but I know how high you have risen on the Champion's wings. I assure you, I am more than capable of meeting any threat." Fenris released his breath in a hiss and reached for his sword when Castillon gestured to a glittering black dagger at his belt. It was just another knife to him, but to his little mage it meant nearly instant death. Where had he found such a thing? Hawke carried the only athame he'd ever seen.

"Your ship!" Isabella cut in; praying Castillon would not hear the panic in her voice. She could not afford to falter now, but Fenris was not the only one who recognized the weapon. "She is magnificent. I want her. Give me your ship and your word that I will never see you again, and I will give you your documents and let you leave with your life. If you think you'll have time to even draw that dagger before Hawke blasts you to little bits, you're more foolish than I thought. You won't find a better deal."

Hawke shot Isabella an incredulous look. "After all this time you want to let him go? I know how badly you want a ship, but is there a reason why you couldn't simply kill him and take it? How much is his word worth?"

Isabella felt her jaw drop and her eyebrows rise. Slavery was a hot button issue with Hawke, but she'd never know the mage to be so bloodthirsty. "That sort of thing is frowned upon in the pirate community. He is a business man and this is a business deal. There are certain codes of conduct, honor among thieves, if you will. He will honor the deal, everyone will know that I bested him, and I will be rid of him through peaceful means."

"A peaceful conclusion from Isabella is a miraculous thing in itself." Castillon said, shifting his gaze to Hawke, then back to the pirate. "I accept your terms. _The Titan_ is yours. The documents, if you please?"

Fenris opened his mouth to protest, but Hawke silenced him, reaching behind her to give his fingers a gentle squeeze. He did not let go when she did. After three years of excruciating distance, even this small touch almost made him feel like he was whole again. He knew she was sending him a message, not a romantic invitation, but it didn't matter. He wanted to hold her hand.

Tucking the incriminating papers into his jacket, Castillon gave Isabella a friendly smile. "My ship is yours, and you will not see me again after this night, as we agreed. You've come a long way, my dear. I must say I will miss you. You would make a powerful ally for any man able to tame you." He shot a glance at Hawke. "Or woman, as the case may be."

Isabella rolled her eyes and watched him walk away with a satisfied smile. "Well, that went better than I could have dreamed." She said, turning back to her friends.

"Really? Because it seemed like you had it all planned out that way." Merrill said, admiringly.

"You know he didn't deserve to go free." Hawke admonished, gently.

"Castillon will get what's coming to him. It doesn't have to be at my hands."

"So you have your ship. What will you do now?"

"I'm going back to my room at the Hanged Man. I don't think I'm finished with Kirkwall, yet. Or with you." She kissed Hawke on the cheek. "Come on, Merrill. It's time you learned about body shots."

Hawke watched with a bemused expression as the women walked away, leaving her in the warehouse, holding hands with Fenris.

**oOo**

"We don't have a lot of time if we want to catch up to Castillon." Hawke said when she was certain Isabella and Merrill were gone.

"He will be difficult to track. We do not know where he is going." Fenris said, bitterly. He had known that Hawke would not truly let the slaver go, but he didn't understand why she had given him this uncharacteristic head start.

"He is going to gather his personal effects from his ship. If all those people are not housed below deck, then they are in the cave at the base of Sundermount waiting to be sold. That is where the 'trade' was to take place."

"What makes you think it hasn't happened already?"

"Because he wanted to sell us as well. He intended us to serve in the whorehouses wherever we ended up. I believe that if the sale had already taken place he would not have been as interested in us. There would be no profit in our deaths, and he did not seem to be in any hurry to use that athame…Although I am curious to know where he got it."

"Won't Isabella be admiring her newly acquired vessel?"

"Not if she wants to avoid meeting Castillon." Hawke released a vexed sigh. "Do you not want to do this?"

Fenris was taken aback at that. How could she ask him that? "Of course I do, but just because that slaver didn't want to use his dagger on you, doesn't mean he won't."

"It's worth the risk, Fenris. I thought you of all people would understand that. I cannot - I will not put myself before hundred of other people who need my help."

"What do you intend to do with them once they are free? Do not mistake me, I mean to help these people, but you cannot afford to employ all of them like you did with Orana. You need a plan."

"Does it matter? When you found your chance to escape, did you think about what you would do, or did you run? Surely some of these people have families. Perhaps I cannot afford to house them, but I can procure safe passage for them to get home. Why do I feel like we're arguing about this?"

"Because you are letting your emotions control you." He said in a kind voice, struggling to suppress a smile. She was still his little mage. She had not been able to shut herself away completely. She was still distant, but Isabella and Castillon's scheming had fanned the flames in her heart, and he was grateful.

"Sorry." She said. She could feel the heat creeping into her cheeks. She had thought that she would have outgrown this by twenty-seven years of age, but no. Every little thing set her face to flaming, even when she was alone. _It's ridiculous._ She thought to herself.

Fenris smiled. He would never say so, but he adored her blushed. "It's alright." He said. "There's a first time for everything."

**oOo**

Aboard _The Titan_, Castillon shoved his more incriminating documents into his satchel. He believed Isabella when she said she would trouble him no more, but her companions were another matter entirely. The Champion and the tattooed elf seemed especially displeased with the bargain. It was only a matter of time before they decided to track him down, and he wanted to put as much distance between himself and them as he could. He needed to get to the den at Sundermount by dawn, and an itchy feeling between his shoulders told him his chances at success grew slimmer with each passing second. He could practically feel them drawing closer.

All was quiet on deck. His crew had taken the loss of their Captain as a matter of course; it was a common enough occurrence among sailors. The wind and sea carried them where it would, and after demanding generous recompense for their time, they gathered their meager belongings and disembarked to seek berth elsewhere. Castillon was less than thrilled about paying the louts, but refusing would have cost him time he did not have. It was the hardest work he'd ever done, gathering five hundred healthy young men and women. Some he had kidnapped - the ones he thought would bring him the most gold; lovely young ladies freshly flowered. Most of them he had tricked onto his ship with tales of a promising land of milk and honey, untouched by the Blight. The difficult part had been transporting them to Sundermount unnoticed. He'd greased a lot of palms to get that many people out of Kirkwall unseen. The guards here were surprisingly resistant to bribes, and that meant distractions had to be created. It was the most expensive venture he had ever entered into, but when it paid off, he could retire a very rich man.

He never even heard them board the ship. Jumpy as he was, he had no idea his demise was nearly upon him until he heard the all too familiar creak of his cabin door swinging open. He did not need to see her reflected in the window to know the Champion had caught up with him faster than he'd believed. No matter. A knife between the ribs would kill her as easily as the next man, and if that sneering noble from Starkhaven could be believed, he held just the dagger to do it. Gripping the hilt of the athame, Castillon spun around sending the dagger flying straight and true for Hawke's heart, but something went wrong. The elf stepped smoothly in front of the Champion, and with casual disdain, he knocked the dagger out of the air with his sword, smashing it against the wall. Castillon himself was frozen mid-step, his arm outstretched from the release. It was an uncomfortable feeling, as if the air had turned to lead around him and might crush him at any moment. His skin crawled as Hawke stepped around the elf, her hand out, palm upraised, her fingers curled to form a loose cage. When she flexed her fingers his cage tightened. If she closed her fist, he would die.

"I did not think you would be alone." The Champion said, with a laugh.

Castillon's mind was racing. He had to find a way out of this. If half of what he'd heard of her was true, he would appeal to her honor. "We had a deal." He said.

"You had a deal with Isabella." The mage reminded him, pleasantly. "Isabella isn't here."

"It doesn't matter. Even if you kill me, even if you somehow manage to find them, do you think they are not heavily guarded? Do you think five hundred people will sit and wait patiently to be sold? More likely you'll be sold along with them, if you are not killed. It's your choice, really." Castillon watched as the Champion and her warrior exchanged a conversation with a glance.

"I think we'll take our chances. Now, if you've nothing more to say?"

The mage flexed her fingers and Castillon felt his bones creak. He could have kissed the elf for stopping her with a gentle touch on the arm, even if his words did nothing to comfort him.

"That…Looks messy. I think Isabella will be upset if you splatter him all over her new cabin. There are cleaner ways."

The swirling tattoos covering the elf's body flared with blinding light, and Castillon forced down the scream welling up in his throat. Who are these people? What could that elf do with those glowing tattoos?

"If you kill me, you'll never find out who hired me." He tried to sound confident. He was absolutely not pleading for his life.

The Champion laughed again. "I doubt that very much. Choose, Castillon. It is to be a clean death or a dirty one? I can crush you now and make an incredible mess, or Fenris could rip the still beating heart from your chest, or I can turn you into a glass statue like the Arishok before he tragically shattered. I prefer the last one, myself. It's more…poetic. But if you cooperate, I could just stop your heart. It would be painless, I swear. Like going to sleep."

It was widely known that the Champion was an implacable enemy, but he had never heard that she used torture as the means to her end; but he supposed the people who knew this side of her did not live long enough to tell of it. Somewhere inside, hiding deep under his terror, was a sense of outrage. He knew he had done many despicable things, but he was not a snitch. He always protected his investments. His only hope was to provoke her into a killing him now. It might not be painless, but hopefully it would be fast. It was difficult to muster his pride, frozen in such an awkward position as he was, but he sneered and spat at her feet.

"Fereldan bitch! Do you think I will just-" Pain like he had never know stole his voice and stopped his breath. The tattooed warrior stood before him, glowing with the brightness of a thousand stars, glaring down at him ferociously. Castillon's eyes traveled down to the source of his pain to find Fenris' fist shoved through his middle with nary a drop of blood to be shown for it. He could feel his hand twisting painfully in his vitals, assuring him that this was real.

"Speak to the lady that way again, slaver, and I might have to do something really terrible." The elf promised in a voice as smooth as silk. "I suggest you answer all of her questions_ politely_, or I will rearrange your organs."

Fenris released him, and Castillon gasped for air, unable to stop the vomit that burst from his lips and dribbled down his chin. He hated Hawke more than ever for curling her lip in disgust. He'd like to see her fare any better against the elf.

"Who is buying slaves, Castillon?" She asked him in such a mild voice that she could have been wondering what to make for dinner.

"I cannot tell you." Had he been able to move, he would have shuddered. He squeezed his eyes shut tight; bracing himself for the pain he knew was coming. It did not.

"I'm new to public recognition, so forgive me for asking: Did you know who I was when you came to Kirkwall? Had you heard of me?"

"I had heard of your battle with the Qunari, yes. Everyone seems to know of it. Your fame spreads quickly." He did think she sounded arrogant, but he wasn't about to tell her that, lest the elf find it rude.

"And would I also be correct in assuming that you knew Isabella is a dear friend of mine?"

"There were rumors that you had distanced yourself from her after coming out as a mage. I heard you travel alone now. I was misinformed." Castillon frowned at that. He paid well for good information, and never had reason to doubt his contacts before.

"So, knowing these two very simple, very basic things about me, I must ask you another question. Did you really think you could get away with _selling five hundred people_ in my city without my knowledge? Without my interference?"

"It is the enemy you don't see that gets you. Had I not miscalculated your friendship with Isabella, you would never have heard even a whisper of my presence, these slaves would be someone else's problem, and I would have a trunk full of gold, ready to retire and live like a king." Castillon groaned as he felt his invisible prison threaten to crush him once again.

"That is true. But you were hasty, Castillon. You should have learned that I am nothing if not loyal, and it is that miscalculation that ultimately leads to your downfall. Surely you can see that you will not leave this place. Why make it harder on yourself?"

Castillon glared at her. "I am still a man. I have some principles, and if this is to be my last day, I will face it on my feet. You will not break me, mage." Something in her expression flicked before hardening into cold resolve once more.

"You profit from the suffering of others. You are a coward who, when faced with the chance to do something decent before he died, wasted it. Fenris, do something unspeakable."

Castillon started screaming before the elf even touched him. He gasped and sobbed unashamedly, and Fenris merely watched, open curiosity painting his features.

"It's not too late to change you mind." He said softly. "Are you certain you have nothing to say?"

Castillon didn't say anything for a long minute, his mind void of thought until the elf took another step toward him. "Starkhaven!" He blurted it out before he could stop himself. "There is unrest in the capitol. The succession is not going well, and some of the minor nobles have decided to take advantage. That's all I know, I swear! Please-" And then he knew no more.

**oOo**

"I feel sick." Hawke said, staring down at Castillon's body.

"It was better than he deserved." Fenris muttered.

"I dislike using such tactics. It makes me feel like I've been dipped in filth that will never wash off. It is an unforgivable thing to break a man. Such a thing leaves a scar of the soul that will not heal any more than-"

"Five hundred people. Tonight, we go to save five hundred people from slavery. Six years ago, Isabella saved two hundred people. For six years, that man has been able to trade in flesh. Who knows how many more couldn't be saved? But if the freedom of seven hundred people and the death of the man responsible for sending countless others to slavery and prostitution is not a balm to your wound, then it's time for you to reevaluate the way you see the world - and Varric has made me famous for brooding."

"Well, yeah, when you say it like that…" She mumbled, the barest hint of a blush creeping into her cheeks.

Fenris rolled his eyes. "There is still light in the world, Hawke, if you would but see it. We may not always be able to afford the high road, but even in your darkest times, you always look toward the dawn. It was ill done, this business with Castillon, but the man would give you no other choice. Slavery must not be tolerated in the Free Marches. You kept your word and gave him a clean death. The man could ask for no better."

Hawke stared at Fenris for a moment, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. "To Sundermount?"

Fenris bent to hoist Castillon over his shoulder like a sack of grain. "Right after I dump this scum off the pier." He said with satisfaction. They were off to slaughter a den of slavers together. Things were getting back to normal.


	23. Chapter 23

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

_*There has been a lot of curiosity as to why Hawke is so much more powerful than other mages, so I have presented a potential explanation. Some may not like it…I'm a little unsure myself. Oh well. We'll see._

_Sorry it's been so long since my last update…_

**Cracks in the Foundation**

"Have you lost your senses completely? You are absolutely not going to see that woman alone! I will not allow you to walk blindly into an obvious trap, Hawke. I forbid it!"

Hawke stood dumbfounded as Fenris shouted in her face while Anders nodded silent but emphatic agreement behind him. When had they begun working together without her? How had they found out? The lack of Varric's presence in the room spoke volumes. The dwarf found it wildly entertaining when the two men took the same side against Hawke. That he wasn't here must mean he had slipped them the information and didn't want to be implicated.

"You forbid it." Hawke said in a flat voice. She shifted her steely gaze way from the elf. "And why are you here, Anders? Do you think I will take you along to meet the Knight-Commander? Do you think we two are so fearsome that she would stay her hand when faced with us both?"

"I was hoping to talk some sense into you." Anders snapped. He hated it when she used that tone with him. "Why agree to meet with her at all? Are you so eager to see the inside of the Circle? Kirkwall is not Ferelden!"

"Do you know how many requests I have sent seeking audience with Meredith? Dozens. Maybe a hundred. I can't bow out now."

Then go. Aveline, Sebastian, and I should be enough to give her pause." Fenris pleaded. "Let us escort you."

"Aveline and Sebastian cannot afford to come out in open support of mages, nor would they wish to, and I have no desire to bring Meredith's full attention on any of you. Especially not you, Fenris. Our friendship _is_ commonly known, and more is speculated. Danarius is still out there. What do you think she will do when a known slaver - a magister comes to Kirkwall in search of you? You, who openly support her opponent; she will think you invited him. She will suspect a coupe."

Fenris felt his jaw drop at that. This was the first time she had ever mentioned their relationship, and he'd had no idea she listened to those kinds of rumors. "To hell with what people think." He growled. "By the time Meredith finds me, I will be standing over Danarius' corpse."

"And she will have you arrested for murdering the man, never mind that she would have executed him herself. Meredith is my adversary, I do not deny this, but how am I to combat her if I cannot even meet with her and gain her measure? I _must_ speak with her face-to-face."

"I don't understand why you insist on doing this alone! This pattern of behavior cannot continue, Hawke! What will you do if she decides to take you after all? You know she will not allow you to remain as you are. You will be branded!" Fenris was back to shouting, looming over Hawke, welcoming the familiar burn of his tattoos as they flared to life.

"And what will you do if you're there, Fenris?" Hawke shouted back, her eyes dancing with green fire. "What's your brilliant plan for stopping her and escaping the Templar Hall? Shall we cut our way out? And then what? Shall we sail away from Kirkwall of a river of blood?"

"If that's what it takes to keep you out of her hands! Andraste's blood, woman, will nothing make you see reason?" Anders was yelling now, his voice booming, his skin cracking as Justice began to shine through.

"If it is a trap, it is a poor one. If you're so convinced, what good is to be served by going down with me? How will you help mages if Meredith kills you? No. The answer is no. My mind is made up, end of discussion."

Fenris glared at her for a long minute, breathing hard, his mouth working, though no sound came out. He turned his back on her and stormed, stiff-backed, from the room. Hawke sighed heavily and Anders pinned her with a fierce frown.

"What will happen to him when you don't come back one day?" He demanded. "What will happen to all of us?"

**oOo**

People were always pointing out to Hawke how small she was, and while she could not deny the truth of their words, she'd never _felt_ small until she was walking the vast corridors of the Templar Hall. Fifteen hundred years ago this place had been a monument to slavery and oppression, its courtyard a vile construct that had been likened unto Hell's Gate, sending a message to lost souls that this was not a place for new hope. Here, you will bow or you will be cut off at the knee. Fifteen hundred years had transformed the construct into the Circle of Magi and the home of the Templar Order. Hawke's mouth twisted ironically. The message was different, but the lesson was the same.

The walk to Meredith's office seemed impossibly long, and Hawke couldn't help but reflect on her harsh words with Fenris and Anders. She felt badly about the way she'd left it, but she was committed to her course. If this was a trap, she would not have anyone else caught in it. Hawke rolled her eyes and clicked her tongue. If this was a trap, it certainly wasn't a clever one. Still, she'd never seen Fenris so angry. He'd never walked out on her that way before. She knew it wasn't fair to look at it that way. If he'd truly left her, she wouldn't have spied him pretending to examine swords in the Gallows Courtyard. In fact, she'd seen all of them at one point or another on her way here. None of the spoke to her, pretending they didn't see her, but she knew what they were doing. It warmed her in an irritating sort of way that they were checking upon her, but she was glad she'd decided to meet the Knight-Commander alone.

"Champion. Welcome." Meredith barked, interrupting Hawke's wandering thoughts.

"Welcome…" Hawke mused, looking around the Knight-Commander's office. Her furniture was sparse - a bookcase, a desk, and a single chair, all simply but finely crafted. The only adornments - they could not be called decorations - the office held were two tapestries hanging on the walls opposite each other. Calenhad and Aldenon. An interesting choice and not one she would have expected from Meredith. It suited the setting nicely, though. Aldenon and Calenhad - mage and king worked together tirelessly for a Ferelden that was free of tyranny and slavery…Until Calenhad betrayed Aldenon by making a secret pact with the Chantry, inviting the Circle into the land. Aldenon disappeared that day. Some said he spent the rest of his days wandering like the Dalish. Others said the Chantry had him killed. Hawke suspected the latter.

"Welcome is not a word I ever expected to hear from you, Knight-Commander. I have sent you many messages. Why do you seek to meet with me now?" Hawke suppressed a smile. She could practically hear the woman grinding her teeth in chagrin.

"There has been an incident within the Circle." She admitted, grudgingly. "A number of phylacteries were destroyed, and several mages took this as an opportunity to escape. We have tracked down most of the fugitives, but I need your help with the last three."

"What makes you think I would do this?" Hawke asked, blandly.

"Because you believe in what I do, even as you struggle against it. You understand the dangers of magic, the weakness of your kind. I have not been ignorant of you, Champion. Whispers of your name reached my ears the day you stepped off the boat. After you killed those Starkhaven blood mages and sent Grace and Alain to us, I decided to watch you for a time. I must admit, I have considered asking you to train my Templars. If they uncovered maleficarum half as well as you, blood magic would be a thing of the past. Grace would have Circle mages believe that you are my puppet and not a friend to mages at all, but I know it is blood magic you abhor. You are free because I believe you will protect this city. Speak with these mages' families. Decide for yourself whether they need to be recaptured. With the influence you wield in this city, Champion, it is crucial that you understand just what we face. I do not approve of the company you keep, but until recently, I thought we were on the same side. I…trust you to do the right thing."

Hawke studied the woman before her. She was in her fifties perhaps, but a handsome woman despite her age. Her silvery blonde hair and sky blue eyes seemed to belong to a much younger woman, but there was nothing girlish about her. She wore pride like a second skin. Determination was her armor, righteousness was her sword. Meredith Stannard, Knight-Commander of the Templar Order of Kirkwall, was a true believer. She believed in herself, in the Maker, in the Chantry, and in the Templars whole-heartedly. She wanted to protect the citizens of this city that she loved, and who better to protect them from than mages? Who could inflict more damage with a flick of her wrist than a mage? Hawke could see it all written in the lines of her face, and no matter how much respect was shared between them, nothing could change the fact that they were enemies.

"You're giving me a lot of rope. Hoping I'll hang myself with it?" As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Hawke felt small and petty. She hoped she imagined the look of disappointment that flickered across Meredith's face.

"I am trying to deal with a difficult situation in as gentle a manner as I dare." She sighed. "You do not approve of my methods, but you have seen firsthand what these people can be capable of if they allow their power to corrupt them. Please, speak with my assistant. She will give you the details. I leave the decision in your hands, Champion."

_Not a trap. A test. Same thing._ _People always talk a lot when they're manipulating you._ Carver had taught her that. No one could lie to Carver. Hawke sighed, heavy-hearted with the memory of her brother, and turned to address Meredith's assistant. Her guts clenched painfully and she swallowed against the vomit that rose in her throat when her eyes landed on the girl waiting patiently in the courtyard. _Of course her assistant is Tranquil. Bitch._

**oOo**

Hawke strolled through Darktown trying to appear casual - an altogether spectacular failure in her opinion. There was nothing casual or inconspicuous about a woman walking through the slums of Kirkwall with an elf, a dwarf, and a mage to guard her. She tried her best to ignore them, rolling her eyes when Varric insisted that they weren't trying to interfere with whatever she was doing. It was purely coincidence that they were traveling in the same direction.

"And if it so happens that you find yourself in need of assistance…" The dwarf left the offer open-ended.

"You big, strong men are going to protect me from the dangerous orphan children? Very gallant, but I think your presence here is more hindrance than help. You're armed for fuck's sake! Even if I find Evelina, she'll never believe I want to help her with you three skulking-" She cut off when a young man checked her hard with his shoulder as he hurried by.

"You don't belong here." He muttered. "Go back to Hightown."

Hawke studied him for a moment, her eyes seeming to catch every detail from his neatly patched clothing, to the lack of dirt under his fingernails. He was altogether cleaner than most of the children who resided in Darktown. Now that she thought on it, many of the Blight orphans she'd seen today had looked clean and healthy, if underfed. There were vague rumors that Evelina had an orphan or two that she looked after, but Hawke suspected it was many more than that - closer to ten, possibly twenty. She waited until her turned the corner and followed after him.

"I'm certain your own affairs call you away." She said, dismissing her escort.

"No, Hawke." Fenris growled. The first words he had spoken to her since their argument early this morning. "We are through playing this game with you. The people you are after are dangerous. You need help. Refuse all you want, but you cannot keep us from following you."

"Do you think not?" She threatened softly, but she relented. Even Varric was glaring at her, stone-faced and stubborn. "Follow, but do not interfere…And try not to look so intimidating. These are children."

Hawke found the young man who shoved her ushering a smaller boy into a rundown shack, and she knew she was in the right place. The younger child squeaked when he saw Hawke and the young man whirled around to face her.

"We got nothing here you'd want. Get back to your mansion and leave us alone!" He snarled.

"Do you live here with Evelina?" Hawke asked, gently. "What are your names?"

"I am Walter, and this is Cricket. There are others inside. Evelina helped us. She saved us from the Blight and saw us safely to Kirkwall. She's helping all of us. Not just us Blight orphans, but orphans left from the Qunari battle as well. But when she went to join the Circle here, they called her apostate and locked her up."

"Of course they did!" Anders spouted. "Whatever possessed her to go there in the first place?"

Hawke shot him an irritated glance over her shoulder, but she allowed the question to stand.

"She wanted to give us a real life. She didn't want us to scrape through Darktown on our bellies. She thought the Circle would help her, but they just locked her away."

_Why would any mage turn to the Circle for help? _Hawke wondered. It was an easy decision. This mage was using her freedom to provide a life for those less fortunate. A noble pursuit and an attitude Kirkwall could benefit from.

"If you tell me where Evelina is, I promise I can find a way to help her, to help all of you. You can trust me."

Cricket began to cry, softly.

"No one can help her now." Walter said bleakly, staring at the ground.

"It's not her fault!" Cricket wailed. "The Templars chased her. They made her angry. They made her change…She was so ashamed after. She ran into the sewers. She didn't want to be seen."

"Shut up, Cricket! Don't tell them that!" Walter hadn't missed the sad look of resignation that drifted across Hawke's face. He turned back to her in desperation. "You can't go down there. Please! She'll know we told you and she'll be so angry with us!" Cricket squeaked and ran away, and with one last pleading look, Walter chased after him.

Hawke sighed heavily. Of course. It could never be easy. It could never be as simple as an honest mage persecuted by the Templars. How could they do it? Why couldn't they see that they were giving the Templars their power when they turned to demons and blood magic? Since arriving in Kirkwall, it was always the same. The mages who fought the hardest for mage freedom often did the most damage. In the end, they proved that it was really their own freedom they were fighting for, and nine times out of ten their choices led to their death. All because they couldn't work together long enough to bring the Circle down from the inside.

"Sorry, Hawke." Varric said, laying a hand on her arm.

Hawke nodded, her jaw clenched tight. She turned her gaze on Anders. "Perhaps you should return to your clinic."

"No. She is no longer fit to care for children. I understand what must be done." He sighed heavily and wrinkled his nose. "They always go for the sewers."

**oOo**

She knew they were hunting her. They'd barely gotten five paces in when a rage demon leading a company of shades engaged them. It was a weak demon that possessed Evelina. Her minions were barely a distraction. Hawke thought it particularly foolish to summon them in the first place. She had alerted them of her presence, and also the fact that she knew of theirs. The farther in they went, the more she gave herself away, creating a trail for them that led straight to her. Hawke was not surprised to see that Walter and Cricket had gotten there ahead of her. She sighed; she couldn't blame them.

"I…I'm sorry." Walter stammered. "I thought if we told her what we'd done she'd forgive us. But she got mad. She-"

"Walter…" A sweet voice crooned from the shadows. "You should never have spoken to the Champion, Walter. You hurt my feelings. Now you'll have to be punished." Evelina stepped from the shadows, a crazed look in her eyes. The demon had driven her mad.

"You know I'll never let you lay a hand on these children." Hawke said, softly.

"You play the hero well, Champion." Evelina hissed, turning her hostile gaze on Hawke. "But I see the lies. Oh, yes, I see, I see, I see…You are a profiteer of human suffering and a harbinger of death, casting Kirkwall in your shadow. People love you and praise your name, but they do not know…_Nonononono_…But I do. Yes, I know that you are a hypocrite! You are a traitor to your country and your kind. You are no friend to mages, _daemon!_ You are here to kill poor me, yes you are! But you are the dead one. You are dead inside, Champion." Evelina giggled. "I see…I see…You should have done more! If you are so great, why is Darktown so dark? I think you like it that way. You like to look down on the rest of us from your pedestal. You reach your hand out to some, yes, to keep up appearances, yes, you do that well. But the rest are so much dirt beneath your feet. I spit on you, Champion. Traitor! Kirkwall will fall to dust, yes, and my children will have a whole city to play in!"

_She's right._ Hawke thought as a spirit bolt formed in her hand. _I should do more. I should have done more. What did she call me?_ Shades sprang up all around them but Hawke paid no attention. Evelina was her target, and her transformation was upon her. A desire demon, it seemed. That came as a surprise. Hawke had been nearly certain it was a pride demon. Desire demons were usually more…delicate with their hosts.

The screaming was distracting. Hawke gritted her teeth in frustration. The sound was coming from the smaller boy. It seemed Walter and Cricket were too shocked to move out of the way. She caught Evelina in the prison of her hand, but she wasn't able to close. The demon was blocking her, glaring through Evelyn's eyes.

"You will have to try harder than that." She hissed.

Hawke nodded, flinging a fireball with her other hand, engulfing the demon in white flame. She made a vexed sound when Evelina appeared only mildly singed. _Fucking shields. Spell immunity._ "Fenris!"

He was at her side in an instant, plunging his sword through the abomination's middle, kicking her off the blade and swinging high to remove her head. Nothing had ever felt so good. No sound had ever been as sweet as Selene's voice calling out to him, needing him. He felt like he might have a place in the world again.

The shades disappeared when Evelyn's life was snuffed out, the sudden stillness at odds with the sound of the boy screaming. He didn't stop until Hawke went to him and laid her hand on his head.

"Why?" Walter asked, staring at nothing. "I thought she loved us. Why would she do this?"

"Evelina did love you, child." Hawke said, laying a hand on his head as well. "That was not her. Remember her as she was."

Walter nodded. "What will become of us now?" He mumbled, miserably.

Hawke handed him a purse heavy with coin. "Use this wisely." She advised. "Come to my estate in Hightown if you need anything - anything at all."

"Thank you, messere. I'll use it to buy food for the others. They've been hungry for a long time now."

Anders turned to Hawke in agitation. "This is going to keep happening." He said. "The Templars push and push, backing good mages into a corner, making them feel so desperate that this is their only chance at freedom. It's not a choice, not really. It's like grasping at a blade of grass when the cliff is crumbling beneath your feet."

"Like Evelina." Walter said.

"Exactly." Anders approved, as if that was all there was to it.

**oOo**

It was the same in the Alienage. Worse. Huon was a blood mage, and Hawke had arrived too late to save his wife from being used to augment his power. Meredith was right. These mages, at least, were too dangerous to be allowed to be free. The knowledge tasted like bile in her throat.

Only Emile could be called innocent, though if idiocy was a crime, the lad surely would have been hanged long ago. He was clearly more than a little drunk, looking at Hawke for a long minute before his eyes sharpened into focus. Then he smiled.

"Are you a mage?" He slurred. "Because you just magicked my breath away."

"Oh, for the love of - yes, I am a mage, as it happens." Hawke sighed.

"Really? So am I. Some say that I am a blood mage. I am a dangerous man." He shot a sidelong stare at Hawke, undressing her with his eyes. "You look like you like dangerous men."

_You have no idea._ Fenris thought, resisting the urge to cut this foolish boy down.

"Can I kill him?" Varric asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. "He's hurting me."

"Be thankful he's not trying to seduce you." Hawke muttered, too low for Emile to hear.

"He's been in the Circle his entire life." Anders defended him. "He can't function in the real world."

"So how 'bout it, doll face? Care to get to know each other better? I have a room upstairs."

"But I already know you, Emile." Hawke replied. "And you know me. I've been looking for you."

Emile's face paled. "Shit! Listen, I'm not a blood mage. I only said that because I wanted to sound dangerous and…suave. That's what women like, isn't it? You have to believe me!"

"Are you mad?" Anders demanded. "You've lived in the Circle your whole life. You know what Templars do to blood mages!"

I've only told a few people in the tavern, and only women. You don't understand." He whined. "I've been a prisoner in the Circle my whole life. I was taken from my mother when I was six. Six! Twenty years later, and I've never done a single thing for myself. The Circle is not life; it's not even an imitation. Friendship was discouraged nearly to the point of forbidden. Any who would flout the unspoken rule are heavily monitored. The Templars see companionship as rebellion. What else could two mages would talk about, other than escape? I've never been in a fist fight for fear of being thought an abomination. I've never cooked a meal for myself or stood in the rain. I've never kissed a girl…" He trailed off, eyeing Hawke in a way that he thought was sexy, but was actually lecherous.

Hawke felt her eyebrows climb and her jaw drop. "You escaped from the Circle to kiss a girl?" She didn't know why she was so surprised. She wasn't as innocent as this boy, but she knew she was not experienced by any means. Her own life had been nearly as sheltered out of fear and necessity. The difference was that it had been forced on Emile. Hawke had chosen her nearly reclusive lifestyle. It was dangerous to get close to people - not only for herself, but for them as well.

"Well…Not exactly." Emile said, blushing under her shocked attention. "I've heard of so many other things you can do with girls…" He was staring at Hawke's breasts.

"The blood mage uses his bumbling nature to appear innocent. This is an act." Fenris growled. If he was angry at the way Emile was leering at his little mage, he was furious that he could not make his intentions toward her known. He hated this possessive side of himself. He would not make her his slave, but she was _his_, goddammit. She was the air he breathed, the blood in his veins, the very essence of his life, though she refused to acknowledge it.

"No, I really think he is that pathetic." Anders said, cutting off Fenris' internal rant. He'd never been in the Circle in Kirkwall, but he would die before he let them take him. He would go back to Ferelden first.

Hawke squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. Nothing was ever easy. This man - this _boy_ had had his freedom for days, but remained in Kirkwall drinking and openly telling people he was a blood mage in an attempt to get them into bed. If she let him go, how long would he keep his freedom? If the Templars didn't kill him first, would he be strong enough to resist a demon when he was cornered? They were waiting for her answer. She didn't know what to do.

"Listen, I know how it looks, but I swear to you, I am no blood mage. I will make a deal with you. There is a lass - a waitress here." He gestured to a busty blonde at the bar. "She agreed to lie with me. Just give me one night and you may take me back to the Circle bound in chains."

Hawke arched an indignant eyebrow. "What are you doing flirting with me when you already have someone?"

Emile reached out as if to stroke her face, but his hand fell short. "You are daemon, are you not? I had to try. Who wouldn't?"

"Who, indeed…" Fenris muttered, darkly. Men panted after Hawke like dogs in heat. _Daemon…_ He had wondered more than once if she was not fully human. _That would explain much, but how? Does she know?_

"You are the second person to call me that…" She said, her eyebrows drawing together in consternation.

"Please, Champion," He appealed. "I am sorry if I have offended you. Do we have a deal?"

Hawke stared at him for a moment, questions plainly written across her face. She did not give voice to them. "One night." She agreed.

"You do not mean to leave him here?" Fenris demanded.

"No. I intend to buy us all some drinks and wait. I could use a smoke. You?" _I need to think. What will I do with him? What is a daemon?_ She chose a table away from Emile, in a corner where she could watch the whole bar. She could feel her friends staring at her as she sat down.

"Sooo…Hawke…" Varric began, signaling his favorite waitress for drinks. "What's a daemon? Some kind of a magical something?"

"I have no idea. I've never heard the word before Evelina said it, and now Emile. It's strange."

"I can ask him. Do you want me to ask him? I can ask him." Varric's eyes were shining with unsatisfied curiosity. This was _exactly_ the kind of fodder that fueled his increasingly outrageous stories about her.

"I was thinking I would wait until he was less inclined to say what he thinks I want to hear." The truth was that she was afraid of the answer. All her life, people had been telling her she was different. Even her father. _You have to stop pretending to be normal and come to terms with what you are._ Nearly everyone she knew had said those words to her. It never bothered her that people thought she was weird - she knew she was. They always said _what._ It was always, "accept what you are," never, "who you are." Did being different really make her less of a person? She hit her pipe and passed it to Fenris, leaning back and letting the smoke float from between her lips.

"They are a myth." Anders said confidently, and Hawke felt a surge of warmth for the mage. She just wanted to be herself, without a title to define her.

"But what is it?" Varric pressed. "It's not like an abomination." It was more of a question than a statement.

"If she is daemon that would make her the furthest thing from an abomination." Fenris said. "Daemon are children touched by the creators, destined for greatness, chosen protectors of the people, and harbingers of revolution. No mortal soul could be half so pure. Some say Andraste was daemon. It's certainly conceivable. They are said to be creatures of unsurpassed beauty and wisdom, sent to guide the people through troubled times."

"Yeah, I'm not that. I'm not daemon." Hawke said. She felt her cheeks redden and her mouth go dry. The very thought terrified her. She was not fit to be anyone's protector. She'd lost her whole family, she failed Nessa when Huon killed her, she'd betrayed Seamus to his death with her faithlessness. She'd turned away from Fenris, betraying herself as well as him because she was a coward. How could she guide anyone? She had thought that there could be a future for her once - making the world a better place. She never thought there was a special word for it; she just thought she was trying to be a good person. It had cost her nearly everyone she ever loved. Her distance was the best protection she had to offer, and despite their protests, it was effective. Her friends took only a fraction of the injuries they had before. She could not bring herself to lead them into danger again.

"Hawke, your humble outlook on yourself isn't endearing." Varric said. "It's annoying. If you are not…daemon, is it? Then they don't exist."

"That's the safe bet." She said, blowing her smoke toward the ceiling. "Don't you think it's a little arrogant to think I'm some mythical being touched by the Maker? The Templars would have me killed. The Chantry would have me killed. People would call me mad if even a whisper of something like that hit the streets. And why would this be the first time I've heard of it?" She turned to Fenris and Anders. "The two of you seem to know enough about it. Why would two fools from the Circle see it, but not you? No. I cannot believe it."

"Daemon _are_ myth." Anders said. "But so it the Maker, Fen'Harel, the elven creators - anything attached to religion is myth. They are synonymous. How could we know to look for you? Why would we think to make the connection? But Circle mages…They need something to believe in. Who do they have besides you? The Maker? Andraste? It was she who put the leash in Chantry hands. But you are a mage living openly in a land that visits harsher punishments on apostates than on murderers and rapists. You are a shining example that mages can live freely and even rise to power and influence without resorting to blood magic, without the aid of demons. They dream of the day you will free them."

_It is wrong to be jealous._ Justice buzzed in his ear. _It is a hard road she is walking. They life of daemon rarely end well._

_All the same, I wish it was me. _Anders replied.

_As do I. But through her our purpose will be served._

"Circle mages hate me." Hawke said, flatly. "They see me as their enemy. That mage from Starkhaven - Grace - she sows whispers of malcontent. She tells the others that I am in league with Meredith, buying my freedom and yours and Merrill's at the expense of 'innocent' mages like her and Decimus. I do not believe in the Circle, but I do believe some mages deserve to be imprisoned for their crimes, and civilian jails will not hold them. For this, I am seen as an enemy of my kind and a hypocrite as well, for allowing you to remain free. Do not look at me that way, Anders, you know what I mean. You've made this very argument to me, if you will recall."

"You are giving her too much credit. Some may listen to her, there are always those who are ready to believe the worst, but most will remember how you stood by Orsino and denounced Meredith to her face. You called her authority into question while all of Kirkwall watched and listened."

"And now I am hunting apostates at her command."

"But their fates are in your hands, not hers. You can choose-"

"I've killed two of them."

"What of Emile?" He pressed. "Do you truly believe he is a blood mage? Do you mean to return him to the Circle?"

"Do I think him a blood mage? No. But you said yourself that he could not function in the real world." Hawke said, with a sigh. "Would freedom really be mercy? The Templars will kill him if they find him. If I took him back, at least I'd know he'd be safe."

"No one is safe in the Circle." Anders said, in a hard voice.

_No one is safe anywhere. _She didn't say it, but she knew Anders was right. She could not guarantee that Meredith would be merciful with the boy, and if she returned him, she would further cement the belief that she was a traitor to her kind. Maybe that shouldn't matter, but it did.

"Touched by the Maker…" Varric mused, happily oblivious of Hawke's discomfort with the subject, ignoring the change in topics.

"Hawke bounded to her feet, her face darkening. "I need some air. Make sure Emile doesn't go anywhere." She commanded through clenched teeth before striding, stiff backed toward the door.

"Fucking fool." Fenris snarled at the dwarf, and then chased after her. It was a bright night, but there was no sign of Hawke outside the tavern.

"What do you want?" A soft voice demanded from the shadows.

Fenris took several steps toward the sound. "I want to talk to you."

"About what?" Her voice was guarded, just shy of hostile.

"You're upset." Closer now, he could see her slight form in the dark. Her back was pressed against the wall, her arms wrapped tight around herself, she stared at the ground.

"What else do you know about daemon?"

"Not much more than I told you. Danarius wondered if daemon could be created artificially to serve him, but it was just one thing on a long list of potential paths to power. No one living today has ever knowingly encountered a daemon. It is my understanding that they take a lifetime to recognize, and such a thing is rare, love."

"And you think I am one of these…_things_?" She asked, looking up to meet his gaze.

"Did you know that your eyes glow when they catch the moonlight? I noticed it the first time we met." He reached out to thread his fingers though her short, shaggy hair, caress the gentle curve of her neck. "Would it change anything if I said yes? Would you become a different person? If you are daemon, Selene, it is the smallest part of you. It is a way for the rest of us to explain why we don't measure up. Good people are a rare breed, nearly as rare as daemon are said to be. It is easy to think that you are special. Always, you seek to do what is right, and even when I disagree with you, I know that you will never stray from that path. Perhaps you are daemon and perhaps not. Likely we will never know. Does it matter? Does it make you any more or less than who you are?"

"I'm just so tired, Fenris. I can never do enough, or give enough; I can never _be_ enough for Kirkwall. There is always more to do, and even when I try to look back at the good I have managed to do, I cannot ignore that my successes are built upon a vast ocean of death. Try as I might, it is difficult to justify that in my mind." She took a deep shuddering breath and rested her forehead against Fenris' chest. She would pay for it later, but she needed this small comfort now. "I've let so many people down already."

"The high road is never easy, and it is often lonely. I can never truly know the pain of all that you've lost, all that you've been forced to give up, but I do know what it's like to feel the darkness closing in, and it's written all over your face. This close, I can practically taste your anguish."

Hawke's guts twisted and she felt as if the breath had been knocked from her lungs. She couldn't do this to him. She had to get away, back inside, anywhere but here with him. She couldn't stand this anymore. She couldn't stand being this close to him, unable to see a future where they could be together. She couldn't breathe.

"No, goddammit." He growled when he felt her stiffen and start to lean away from him. His strong arms banded around her and he crushed her against his chest. "You are strong, Selene, but you are not an island. You are soft. You have weaknesses and hopes and dreams and fears and ideals. _And friends._ The more you push all of that away, the tighter the darkness will surround you until you lose sight of what you are fighting for and are consumed. The branch that does not bend, breaks. I would not have it so."

"I don't know if I can." She said in a tight voice, still stiff in his embrace. _I can't! I can't do this! I can't breathe! Don't let go. Don't give up one me…_

He dropped his forehead against hers and traced the line of her jaw with his thumb. "Try." He whispered. "Not just for me. You've given us all a home. We thought…_I_ thought we were a family. I though we could all depend on each other no matter what…Even Anders, as much as I hate the son of a bitch. Why is it so easy for you to leave us behind?"

Hawke trembled violently, failing to choke back the sob that tore from her throat. How could he think this was easy for her? She wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him tight. "How many wounds have you taken for me? How many times have you followed me into battle seeking to protect me when it should be the other way around? The Qunari uprising…You were _dead_, Fenris. I couldn't find a trace of life in your body. I couldn't heal you. I couldn't do anything. I thought you were gone, but Anders pulled you back from the Fade. A lifetime of hollow despair existed in the space between. You don't know what it was like to see you that way. Your eyes were open, lifeless, looking at me. You should never have been there. I will not waste your life a second time by allowing you to follow me into danger. I could not bear it if I lost you again."

"So you would throw me away, instead?"

"No! You know it isn't like that!"

"It feels that way. At first I thought this was my punishment for leaving you, but you are punishing yourself as well. You blame yourself for circumstances outside of your control. You refuse to let happiness into your heart for fear it will be taken away from you. What kind of life is that? Surely, this is not what you want."

"I want to be normal." She mumbled.

"Well, you're not."

A sound escaped her that was half laugh and half sob. "Neither are you."

"None of us are, Hawke…" He tilted her face toward his, but when he leaned forward she leaned away, breaking their embrace.

"I can't. This is - I'm not ready for this." Panic clutched at her throat, threatening to choke her when his expression clouded and he took a step back from her. In her mind's eye, she could see a door slowly swinging shut, and she knew that if she let it close completely, she would never find it again. She would be alone in the vast, empty dark.

"Wait!" She cried, reaching for him.

"You cannot have it both ways, Selene." He stormed. His voice was harsh, ragged. "It is true; I have taken wounds for you. I would give my life for you, freely and gladly. We made vows to each other, do you remember that? If I met my death at your side, if I died to save you, I would call it a life well spent. I did not expect to be repaid with early retirement. My own feelings aside, consider Aveline for Andraste's sake. You helped her to become Captain of the Guard, but you do not have enough faith in her to allow her to travel with you. We are not so frail. Your protection is insulting." He took another step back.

The door closed a little more. Her mind was screaming the words, but her mouth wasn't working. _Maker, you really are craven, aren't you?_ Hawke knew the thought was her own, but it came in Carver's voice. Even when things were right between them he had been a competitive boy. There was nothing he loved better than her fear of bees. How could something so small seem so terrifying? She remembered how angry she would get when he laughed at her. Then she remembered his last words to her, and her mother's. _There are people who would love you if you let them…Grab that wild elf and don't let go…_

She reached out again, grasping his hand. "I-" Her voice cracked and she heaved a shuddering sigh. "I will try, Fenris. Just…please be patient with me a little longer. This is no small thing you're asking me. I need time, but I promise to try."

He squeezed her hand, threading their fingers and examined her face with solemn eyes. "I know you are going to let Emile go. I want you to take me with you when you report back to the Knight-Commander." He scowled furiously when she hesitated. "For the love of god, will nothing make you see the danger of the woman? You wanted to take her measure and you have. Now, please listen to reason…" He trailed off.

Hawke smiled. Her pause had angered him, but even as he vented his frustration, he never let go of her hand. She doubted he was even aware of the way his thumb was gently stroking the back of her hand, but the sensation raised the hair on her arms in a pleasant way.

"I would be glad of your support…I _have_ been glad of it. You are a good friend, Fenris."

"Is that…what we are?" Her words brought him hope and despair in equal value.

Hawke smiled enigmatically and looked down at his tattooed hand entwined with hers. "We should go back inside."

**oOo**

Hawke was true to her word. Fenris was only a little surprised when she arrived the next morning, ready to meet with Meredith. He was only a little disappointed that she was alone. Time with her was precious, but he had hoped, however foolishly, that she might invite Aveline as well. He was certain the Guard Captain would want to be there. When he mentioned it, Hawke waved her hand dismissively.

"Aveline has no wish to get caught between me and the Knight-Commander. The law is on Meredith's side. If Aveline tried to get involved she could be accused of treason. That goes for you as well. If she arrests me, you mustn't try to stop her. If anything you must stop me if I try to run; anything you can do to make her think you're on her side."

The thought made bile rise in his throat. "What will you do?" His voice didn't sound like his own. Let the Templars take her? Let Meredith brand her? No matter what she said, could he stand by and let that happen? And she wanted him to help! His mind drifted back to the picture he'd found three years ago; a branded Selene with empty eyes, uncaring of the abuse that had been inflicted on her.

"I'm hoping my reputation will shield me from Tranquility. Though it matters little, I am the people's choice. If I should be so lucky, I will try to work within the Circle to do some good. They will be watching me constantly - especially at first, but I will make my escape when I see the chance."

Fenris felt his chest tighten and swell with alarm. "Tell me you're not planning to get captured on purpose!"

"Of course not, but we should be prepared for anything. I doubt she'll be pleased with me."

"Is this you trying to reassure me?" He asked, arching an eyebrow.

"What can I say? I'm an eternal optimist."

Fenris smiled down at her, resting his hand at the small of her back as he guided her through the door of the Templar Hall, but his heart was filled with unease. This place was identical to the Hall where he'd betrayed Hawke to make a deal with a demon. He'd tried to kill her and nearly made her Tranquil in the process. Now, in the waking world, in the same place, she might ask him to betray her again. He knew he wouldn't do it. She would be angry at first, but he could not let her go to the Circle. Not with what she had already endured at Templar hands, not with Meredith to decide her fate, not under any circumstances because he could not bear to be parted from her any longer. At this very moment, Isabella was aboard the _Titan_; ready to raise anchor and set sail incase they needed to make an escape. Hawke was not the only one who planned for the worst.

"Champion." The Knight-Commander greeted her with deceptive friendliness. "I must thank you for your assistance with Huon and Evelina. Their deaths are unfortunate, but necessary. It seems we still have no word of Emile…" She bared her teeth in a smile, but the rest of her face remained still.

Hawke supposed that look must be unnerving to some people. She held back a sigh. Did Meredith really think to intimidate her? "I never found Emile. He's gone."

"No leads, even? Not a whisper of the boy?" She maintained a congenial voice, but the softest hint of a threat darkened her tone.

Hawke arched an eyebrow. "He was seen drinking and gambling at the Hanged Man. He was gone when I arrived. We waited to see if he would come back, but he never did. When the rumor got out that he was a mage, no one would admit to knowing him." She sprinkled her tone with bitterness toward the end.

Icy triumph curled Meredith's mouth into a predatory smile. Fenris felt his hand twitch, but he did not reach for his sword. Not yet.

"What if I told you that I have witnesses placing you with Emile at the Hanged Man last night? And your…_escort_ as well." Her mouth twisted around the word with disgust.

A truly amused expression lit Hawke's face and a small chuckle escaped her. "I would tell you that some people will say anything if they see a profit in it. Did you tell these 'witnesses' they would be rewarded for their information?" Meredith's smile turned sickly, and Hawke's smile widened. "Maybe you should listen to what people are willing to say for free."

"Very well…Champion," She nearly choked on the title. "Although I am not best pleased by this business with Emile, I cannot deny that you have done Kirkwall a service - however grudgingly. You are dismissed."

Fenris noted the Knight-Commander's grimace when Hawke failed to make any courtesy before turning her back. He scowled. Even if she had shown perfect etiquette, Meredith would have found fault with it. She wanted Hawke under lock and key. Her eyes held a manic light whenever they fell on her, but there was never enough evidence to arrest her without damaging her own reputation and with it, her position of power. Somehow, his little mage always seemed to dance just out of reach.

"That was easier than you led me to believe." He muttered as they left the Gallows.

"Plan for the worst and hope for the best. Disappointed?"

"No! I just-"

"You went through a lot of trouble to arrange my escape?"

He didn't care that she was laughing at him. He loved the way her eyes sparkled. "You knew?"

"Of course I did. I know everything."

"Huh. That must be convenient. Are you angry?"

"I was at first, a little. It wasn't easy, but I realized I could hardly be angry when I would have done the same thing for you. I would never let Danarius take you. I would never let anyone chain you."

She reached out to thread her fingers with his, and Fenris felt himself stand a little straighter. Small as the gesture was, it was the first time she had ever shown him any affection in public. He tried not to scowl when he paused to wonder how much the effort had cost her. Her grip was warm and firm, but there was something strained in her expression.

"I cannot fix everything overnight, but I am trying." She said quietly, seeming to read his thoughts. "I have to be honest, I'm a little nervous about people seeing us together."

Fenris tightened his grip on her hand. She didn't pull away, but he wasn't going to let her try. There could be no going back now. She walked with him like that all the way back to his mansion. She had made a much larger step today than he had been expecting. In truth, her presence was almost more than he'd dared to hope for. When she bade him farewell and turned to leave he stopped her.

"Stay." He begged.

"I…cannot." She said awkwardly, a furious blush staining her cheeks. "Jethann gets angry when I'm late. He clucks like a chicken." She rolled her eyes, but there was genuine affection in her tone.

Fenris felt something dark and heavy grow in the pit of his stomach. Hawke cared about Jethann, and Fenris knew for a fact that the other elf openly admitted his feelings for her. _It's been three years, fool. What were you expecting? That's how you got her, isn't it? Become her protector. It worked._ He didn't want to ask, but his stupid mouth was already forming the words.

"Have you-? Has he-? I mean to say…" His shoulders slumped. _It doesn't matter._ "It doesn't matter."

He looked so forlorn that Hawke had to suppress a laugh. She resisted the devil that pricked her to tease him. "It matters." She said, smiling and reaching up to trace the shell of his pointed ear. "There has never been anyone but you."

He caught her hand as she pulled it away and pressed a kiss into her palm. "I want you to stop seeing him." His voice sounded ragged to his ears.

Her delicate eyebrows drew together, and her smile turned sad. "I'm not ready for that, Fenris, and I don't think you are either."

"I think you are underestimating me." _We have been playing this game for six years._ He couldn't help but wonder how many things might have been different if he had never left that night. If she had never gotten engaged to Seamus, would he still have converted to the Qun? Would she still become the Champion of Kirkwall, or would the Qunari uprising never have happened? No. With Isabella's part in the tale, the course of events would not have changed _that _much. Still, the thought kept him awake some nights.

"Maybe so." Hawke allowed. "But even still, I am not underestimating myself. I am not ready to rush into this so quickly. As much as I understand your…distaste for the current arrangement, I must also consider Jethann's feelings. He has become a friend to me. He has watched over me for a long time now. I cannot cast him off so suddenly. My time with him is drawing to a close. He deserves a face-to-face explanation."

"It is more than friendship he wants from you, Selene." Fenris persisted, unhappily.

"Yet he has remained a gentleman. I pay him for a service, and it's true that we have become close, but he does not push the boundaries of our relationship." _Not any longer._ She would never forget the night Jethann had woken her from her nightmare by ripping her shirt - Fenris' shirt. She had nearly killed him. He knew little of her past and had simply thought to startle her awake - although he later admitted that he'd been wildly curious about what was hiding under her night clothes. A mistake he'd never repeated. Her telekinetic blast sent the elf crashing against the wall. Waving away her tearful apologies, he staggered to his feet and laughed, telling her it was well worth the pain to see her naked. His eyes were filled with questions and concern about her scar, but he remained tactfully silent.

Fenris eyed her; his scowl was nearly a pout. "Your blushes do little to comfort me." He muttered. "I do not like the idea of you sharing another man's bed. I want you to come back to me, Selene."

Hawke sighed. "I am sorry, Fenris. I never wanted to hurt you, only to be honest. Please try to understand. I cannot simply pick up where we left off. Clearly, we are beyond keeping you out of Meredith's view. She let us go today, but I cannot believe there will not be some kind of retaliation. She knows very well that Emile did not escape on his own I promised that you could come with me today, but that does not mean that I have stopped worrying for your safety. Forgive me, but this is just the way it is, at least for now. I just…I need more time."

She leaned up to kiss him on the cheek, but he turned his head at the last second to claim her lips in a hungry kiss. He wrapped one arm around her waist, hauling her up against him and turning to press her against the door. He braced his other arm above her head, his tongue invading the hot, wet cave of her mouth when she gasped. She didn't fight him, or even try to pull away. He could feel her fingers curling into the soft cotton of his tunic before flattening her palms to explore his well muscled chest. He answered her soft gasp with a ragged growl, shuddering slightly when her velvet tongue stroked his. The taste of her magic flooded his mouth and he drank her in greedily. She filled him, consumed him, setting fire to his senses.

"I will not apologize for that, Hawke." He grated against her ear, breathless and drunk on her essence. Satisfied that she seemed similarly affected, she surprised him with a sassy smile.

"Nor will I." She mused, staring down at the obvious bulge in his pants. She slipped from his embrace, deftly spinning around to stand behind him. He could feel her breasts pressed against his back and her warm breath whispering at the back of his neck. "I really must be going."

"Come and see me tomorrow?" She didn't answer. When he turned around, she was gone.


	24. Chapter 24

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

_*Sorry it took so long for me to post again. It was supposed to be short, but it just wasn't going to happen that way. Also, steam punk hi-jacked my life._

_**Sorry, Anders fans…_

**Anders Tries His Luck**

Hawke was caught off guard by the warm smile that greeted her as she strolled into Anders' clinic. He had grown increasingly surly and withdrawn of late. The Templars were turning up the heat, and more than once he'd had to make a hasty escape through the secret passages she'd built for him. She was worried that the pressure was getting to him. He took the imprisonment of every single mage as a personal affront, and the burden was too heavy for any man to carry alone.

She had not been able to push Anders out the way she had the others. It's hard to ignore someone when you can hear them tinkering below you. More than once he had lured her from her solitude with various bangs and flashes, often followed by mysterious smells and creative curses. These days, he was always working on some new and dubious experiment. She'd never been able to pry the details out of him, but he listened to her questions with good humor and used the opportunity to take his meals with her. Invited or no, Anders was the one thread that anchored her life to something that resembled normal. She'd grumbled about it at the time, but if she looked back on it, he'd saved her with his cheerful stubbornness. Her heart swelled with something beautiful and agonizing. _Carver. Carver used to make me feel this way._

Selene Hawke had endured much in her life. More than most people could bear and still carry on, but nothing had cut her so deeply as losing Carver in the Deep Roads. Carver, who she would lie, kill, or die for, who lost his life at her very own hands, never crying or begging for mercy, only asked her to be happy. She tried to smile through the painful lump that was growing in her throat. He'd gotten the last laugh, there. Sometimes she thought it would have hurt less if he had remained angry to the end. Probably not. Just a different kind of pain.

"Is something wrong?" Anders asked her gently, interrupting her trip down the dark end of memory lane. "Your smile seems…strained."

Her expression softened. "Everything is fine. I got your message, although why you didn't just come upstairs and ask me yourself is beyond me."

Anders smiled. They still disagreed on much, but they had come a long way these last three years. He liked to think they had something special, even if it was not quite what he wanted. That was why this was going to be so hard.

_**There is no other way.**_ Justice pressed, sensing Anders' hesitation. _**We're doing this for her. For all mages.**_

"There is a certain formality in sending you a message. This is how it usually works, isn't it? People send you a note and you help them, right? I'm going to be trying something, and I thought you might want to be a part of it. You've been a good friend to me, Selene, and I want to tell you that I know I've bee wrong."

Hawke arched a delicate eyebrow when he didn't continue. She flashed a crooked smile. "You're going to have to be more specific." She said. "You've been wrong about so many things…which are we admitting to today?"

"Hilarious." Anders said, dryly. "But in all seriousness, I'm talking about merging with Justice. You were right. It should never have happened."

_What brought this on?_ "You've been together for years. It's a little late for regrets." She said, not unkindly.

"Maybe not. I've found some Tevinter scrolls that suggest that there may be a way for us to part company without parting with our lives. I know how you feel about them, and in part, I understand your reasons, but they are the only ones who have tried to find a solution rather than simply killing the subjects."

"Subjects." Hawke said, flatly. "I shudder to think of how they gathered volunteers for such and endeavor. Not to mention the danger-"

"But if their research is valid, surely that is worth any risk it entails." There it was. The flash of hope in her eyes that made him love her and broke his heart at the same time. Justice was right. She would not refuse him. He almost flinched at the question he knew was coming.

"What do you need me to do?"

"I knew you would stand beside me in this. Even if…"

_**Quiet, fool! Are you trying to make her suspicious?**_

Hawke was suddenly looking at him in that way that he hated, like she was looking through him, reading his mind and his heart. He wondered if she had any notion of what he was really up to. He wondered if she would want to help him. The idea was unthinkable, of course, but it was a thought that appealed to him nonetheless.

"I've gathered most of the ingredients myself, but I need your help gathering some of the more _outlandish_ items." Anders babbled before Hawke could probe any deeper into his mistakenly leading comment. "A powder the Tevinters call sela petrae, and a small amount of drakestone." He mumbled the last ingredient under his breath and felt the full power of Hawke's scrutiny fall upon him. He tried to remain casual, confident, but damn she made him nervous sometimes.

"Drakestone is highly combustible. It's an explosive." She said, narrowing her eyes.

Anders rolled his eyes. "That doesn't necessarily make it destructive. Something about it, when added to the heated potion, creates a small flash and changes the properties of the potion. I don't understand the particulars entirely, but what I've read - I have to try. I know the risks, but I truly believe that this is my chance to make everything right."

"Okay. It's just…You plan to drink a potion?"

"That's the idea."

"You realize drakestone is dragon shit, right?"

Anders grimaced. "I'm trying not to focus so much on that part of it."

"How does Justice feel about this?"

"Does it matter?" Anders voice the spirit's shocked question.

"Don't you think it should? I thought you were content with you situation. Did something change between you?"

"No, but I've come to see how much this union has cost me. I can't help but think of how many things could have been different if I was just…myself; how many things could change. As for Justice, he is not truly happy here. How could he be? He doesn't belong. This is his chance to return to the Fade."

Hawke stared at him for a long minute. "The mines for the drakestone. Where do we get sela petrae?"

Anders smiled sheepishly. "You're not going to like it."

"It's always the fucking sewers." She muttered, pinching the bridge of her nose.

**oOo**

"Why is the action always so fucking hot down here?" Hawke shouted, spinning her staff furiously against a group of bandits who had managed to slip inside her bubble. Aside from the gangs that prowled this place, the sewers were fraught with nasty traps cleverly disguised to the unwary eye.

"To keep the law out, dog-lord bitch." Her lantern jawed opponent snarled through rotted teeth. His hand shot out lightning fast. Hawke leaned back, but not fast enough; the dagger caught her just below her right eye, biting deep. Fat red tears streamed down her face in a grim parody of hurt feelings.

"Like I've never been called that before." Hawke snarled. She reached out, palming Lantern Jaw's face and sent a torrent of electricity through her fingertips, killing him instantly.

Anders felt like someone had punched him in the stomach when Hawke whirled around to face him. Her face was a mask of blood, her eyes were wild, searching for threats and finding none. Maker, she was hurt so badly. Was she even aware of it? She did not seem concerned with healing herself, so Anders took the liberty, cleansing her of the slightest ache or bruise. Only then did she really seem to come back to herself. Only then did she seem to see him.

"Are you alright?" She asked. Her voice sounded far away to Anders' ears.

"Are you?" He asked, striding forward to examine her more thoroughly. "You don't seem like yourself today."

"Sorry." She sighed, running a frustrated hand through her hair. "I guess I'm a little distracted. Are you alright?"

"You already asked me that." He said gently, but he did not object when he felt her magic wash over him, cleansing him. Hawke rarely touched him with magic and it was an act he enjoyed intensely. She felt different from other mages. She certainly felt nothing like him, his bond with Justice could explain that; but neither was she like Karl or Irving or Valenna. When she healed him, he felt reborn, like a new man with a fresh start. She had attacked him once, and he felt her fury raging through him, desperate to scar him had she not held herself in check. He had lain awake nights wondering what else she could do with her magic.

"Sorry." She said again. "I was thinking about-"

"Fenris?" Anders interrupted, failing to hold back the jealousy in his tone. "I know it's none of my business, but I wanted to talk to you about that."

"That's not what I was going to say." _Carver. I was thinking of Carver._

"I've noticed the two of you growing close again." He said, not listening. "I was just wondering if you were sure this was the best thing for you. He seems less a man to me than a wild beast. He-"

Hawke could feel a rant building inside Anders, a rant she did not want to hear. She had been asking herself the same question, although it was not because she was afraid of Fenris. She was afraid _for_ him. Afraid that his affection for her would prove to be his undoing.

"Can we please get back to the fecal matter at hand? I cannot believe you want to discuss my personal life in the sewers."

"Yes, because the Bone Pit is much more conducive to polite conversation." Anders muttered, turning away from her to search out the sela petrae. It usually gathered in corners and around the base of the walls.

"What I choose to do with Fenris is polite conversation?" She asked, amusement lightening her tone almost to laughter. 'This discussion is restricted to those specific locations?"

"Time alone with you is a precious commodity, Hawke, and an opportunity I am rarely afforded anymore. When else would I try to talk to you? There is always something to distract you when you're at home."

"I found some over here. I'm not touching it, though. This is your project. And I spend more time with you than anyone. It's been that way for a long time. We're family, Anders. Do you think I'm here with you in the _sewers_ for fun?"

"I don't know if I should be pleased by that or saddened." He said, not looking at her as he scraped some of the putrid stuff into a vial. "What do you do by yourself all the time? Don't you get lonely?"

"No." She answered too quickly, betraying her lie. "I read, I draw, I play my guitar," her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "I don't know if you've heard, but I've become quite notorious as a vigilante."

"Where do you play your guitar?" He demanded, accusingly. "Nobody can find you. Prince Charming says you've stopped coming to the Chantry. He's practically tearing his hair out over it."

"I didn't know you two were such good friends. When did that start?"

"About the time you stopped going to the Chantry." Anders voice fairly dripped with acid. "He barged into my clinic one day shouting that I was a beast, an abomination in truth for turning you away from the Maker. If I had been any less than as completely surprised as I was, I think he might have killed me. What's going on with you, Hawke? I thought you cared for those kids."

"The children have grown, Anders. They do not need me any longer, and the Chantry is overrun with people who see me as an affront to the Maker. Any who seek my aid or my counsel know how to find me. Even the Blight orphans. My presence in this city is far from secret."

"And Sebastian? I can almost understand you pushing the rest of us away, but Sebastian needs the protection of your presence, just like-"

"Don't." Hawke warned, but just like Carver, Anders pressed past the point of good sense.

"Just like Fenris. Denying it won't change the facts, Selene. Danarius is still out there, and you turned your back on Fenris for three years. What exactly are you protecting him from?"

Hawke growled, balling her hands into fists at her sides. "You know, I feel like I've been listening to this same song and dance all my life. You all do it! You spit out one side of your mouth about how I carry too heavy a burden, then you tell me I'm not responsible enough out the other. I'm doing the best that I fucking can! I'm only one person, I can't be everywhere at once. Maybe you should ask Sebastian how often he tries to contact me! And you don't even care about Fenris, so drop the act. Sela petrae over there!"

"…we're done…" Anders said, quietly. There was nothing else to say. It had been a long time since she'd yelled at him that way. He felt almost horrified as his mouth stretched into a smile and a bubble of laughter escaped him. He wondered briefly if he'd lost his mind, but he couldn't help himself. It was just too ridiculous, arguing about her personal life while looking for very special fermented shit deposits. Hawke stared at him for a moment as though she'd very much like to clobber him with something, but the corners of her mouth began to twitch and a blush rose in her cheeks and then she was laughing as hard as he was. Even after it wasn't funny anymore, they still laughed at the picture the two of them made, giggling like lunatics in a miserable cesspool.

Hawke cut her laughter off abruptly. "Why the fuck are we still down here?" She demanded.

**oOo**

The acrid smell of sulfur punched Hawke full in the nose burning her eyes and making them water, but she barely noticed it. The Bone Pit mines had been destroyed. No sign of life stirred amid the flaming wreckage.

_When? How? I never even received word that anything was wrong! Does Hubert know about this? _Her thoughts raced furiously, but deep down she knew none of it mattered anymore. _I thought we killed all the dragons…_She would see that the families of the men she'd lost were cared for. It wasn't enough, but it was what she could do.

"I was responsible for these men." She whispered in a shaky voice. "It was my job to make sure the mines were safe." _The inspection was scheduled in a week…_

Anders watched, feeling helpless as the blood from Hawke's face and the light in her eyes flickered and dimmed. There was no reaching her when she got like this, no making her understand that it wasn't her fault. He said the words anyway.

"You could not have prevented this, sweetheart."

Anguish and resignation did battle across her face, her voice was gruff. "That remains to be seen. We still have to get inside." She said. "We may be here longer than we thought. Did you bring supplies?"

Anders nodded. "Are you sure you want to do this?" He asked.

"Whether I want to or not, I have to, don't I? Not just for you, but there might still be someone inside who needs help." Her voice was heavy with doubt, but Anders knew that while even a glimmer of hope fluttered in her heart, nothing could drag her away from the mine now.

It took longer than he expected to find a way in; a crack in the rubble that Hawke slipped through easily, but Anders had to squeeze and inch his way inside. The air was heavier now; smoke and steam ghosted through the open cavern, pausing occasionally to mingle and dance with each other before flowing onward, lazily seeking escape. Hawke used her canteen to soak two handkerchiefs and she handed one to Anders to hold over his mouth and nose.

"Try to stay as low as you can." She said, frowning at him. "Fucking giant."

"Giant? If you weren't so adorable I'd swear you were a dwarf." Anders mocked, flashing his best grin. He knew he shouldn't flirt with her, but she _was_ adorable. Still, she responded to his attention the same way she reacted to all the poor souls who tried their luck with her. She ignored him. There were more important matters afoot.

Hawke wasted no time in exploring the cavern, shifting some of the larger piles of debris, searching for survivors. She examined the support beams carefully for signs of weakness. Much of the wood was cracked and singed, but she could find nothing to signify mold or decay. She could hear the mine creaking and groaning around them.

"I don't know if it's safe for us to be here." Anders warned when a particularly large crack made them both jump.

"Yes, well it's a little late to be concerned with something as trivial as safety." Hawke grumbled, holding a flame in the palm of her hand like a lantern as she probed deeper. She frowned. The farther in she went, the less damage she noticed to the structure of the mine. She turned back to Anders just in time to see the beams over their narrow entrance collapse, blocking out the light with a boulder half again as tall as she was; immovable without bringing the rest of the cavern down on them.

"Trapped." Anders coughed when the dust settled.

"There's another exit." Hawke said, absently. "Where are all the dragons?"

"I didn't know you invited them."

"There isn't much damage farther in. This was an external attack, so where are the dragons now? We didn't see any coming in. Only fire."

"What makes you think it was dragons?"

"The fire? And what else could have done it? The mine is secure, but there have been problems with dragons in the past."

"You make them sound like pests."

Hawke leveled a look at him. "They are pests. Big, scaly pests that sometimes breathe fire, and I'm finding their absence to be somewhat unnerving." As if to punctuate her statement, a disgustingly wet clacking sound echoed deep within the cave.

"Be careful what you wish for, Hawke." Anders sighed.

"That didn't sound like a dragon to me." She said. "At least we won't get bored." A smile lit her face as she pressed forward in search of new threats. Anders sighed again and followed her only a little reluctantly. She wouldn't be here if not for him, after all. Still, he wished she would be slightly less enthusiastic to run into danger.

"So if it's not a dragon, what do you think it is?" He asked, fearing the answer.

"Spiders, I suppose. Spiders love dark places like this. If we can hear them moving around, my guess is that their very large spiders."

"Of course they are. We never get attacked by anything small and cuddly."

"Would you like that? You go to pick up a cute little ball of fluff one day and it mauls your face off?"

Anders rolled his eyes. "You take the fun out of everything."

"Huh. It was a fun thought for me." Hawke said. If Anders could see her face, he would have seen the laughter sparkling in her eyes. "Besides, you're the one who wanted to go it alone."

He snorted at that. He would be waiting in his clinic if it were up to her. Still, he couldn't get the image of Hawke returning to the Hanged Man hand in hand with Fenris a few nights ago out of his mind. He had thought her well shut of him, and it made him increasingly uneasy that the elf had managed to reestablish his connection with her. He wanted to talk to her about it, but he didn't know how to bring it up, and he was reluctant to break the easy nature of their banter.

They found trouble before they found drakestone. Just as Hawke predicted, an epidemic of giant spiders descended from the ceiling. Anders loathed spiders. Nothing should have that many legs…Or eyes. His skin crawled at the sight of them. He was only a little embarrassed that Hawke didn't even flinch as she launched herself into the fray, blocking the huge clicking mandibles of one spider with her staff and launching a fireball into a group of slightly smaller giant spiders that were looking in his direction.

His temporary relief from the arachnids was swept away under a huge tidal wave of shame. While she was distracted with protecting him, her own opponent had gotten around her staff and tore a large chunk out of her arm, the poison was already eating into her skin, thirsty for blood, searching for bone. He tried to heal her, but she was too fast for him. The nearly blinding light of her healing magic enveloped her even as she struck at the spider again with her staff, stabbing it hard in its center eye. He cringed and braced himself when he felt her channel her telekinetic blast into the staff, splattering bits of spider all over the cave, all over them. There was no time to be disgusted, however. After all, and epidemic consists of considerably more than four spiders, and the creatures seemed to be coming from all directions at once. Anders had finally gathered his wits enough to join Hawke in the fight.

_Maker, I hate fucking spiders._ Anders thought to himself as he turned one spider into a walking bomb, zapped another with lightning. Hawke was a storm of fire and ice beside him. There was simply no way to kill the bloody things without making a mess.

"Even if there was any drakestone in this area, I don't think you want to look for it anymore." Hawke said when the final spider went splat. Her voice was weary. The acidic venom from the spider had eaten though her shirt in several places, but she was otherwise unharmed.

Anders wrinkled his nose at the heaps and piles of reeking spider flesh. "It's hard to decide which is more disgusting, but I would hate to see what would happen if you combined the two." He agreed.

Hawke smiled weakly and turned to wander deeper into the mine. Anders felt a wave of shame wash over him again. He'd frozen in the face of danger, and she'd been injured because of it. Was this how Hawke felt when it was one of them? He could almost understand the way she tried to keep them all home. Almost.

**oOo**

They had to make camp in the mine that night. The Bone Pit was too big and too dangerous, and drakestone was too rare to gather all that was needed in only a few hours. Fortunately, Hawke located a narrow passageway that led into a small cavity. The passage was too narrow for a threat of any consequence to slip through.

"I think it would be best if I kept watch anyway." Hawke said, when Anders mentioned this to her.

"You didn't bring a bedroll." Anders accused when she started going through her pack, searching for her canteen. "Your pack is bursting at the seams! What do you have in there?"

"Supplies." She answered defensively. "Rations, water, herbs, bandages, a kettle, a skillet, tripod, needle and thread, potions, and entertainment for the evening."

Anders' jaw dropped as Hawke pulled an impossible amount of equipment out of an average sized backpack. He had seen satchels like this before, the Warden Commander had one, but they were quite unusual and very difficult to make. Even knowing what it was, he still found it difficult to fathom how much she was able to carry in the damned thing. Still…

"And with all that you couldn't manage to pack yourself a blanket or two? He asked, incredulously.

"I still needed to leave room for your drakestone deposits and anything else I might find. Spiders like to hoard precious stones and other valuable things they shouldn't know to care about. I think they use it as bait. Anywhere there is treasure, men will come looking for it."

"But you brought your guitar." He said, flatly.

"You wanted to know when I played it. If I'm doing a job that takes a day or two, I bring my guitar to pass the time." Anders opened his mouth to protests, but Hawke pinned him with a stubborn stare. "I'm an adult. If I'm not tired, I'm not going to sleep." Her tone left no room for argument.

Hawke fumed quietly to herself as she prepared them a dinner of seasoned, dried beef, garlicky potatoes, and buttery flatbread. She poured them each a cup of wine and settled herself down to eat in silence. She knew she shouldn't be angry, but she couldn't help but feel like she was fighting everyone lately. After all these years, she thought they would learn to accept certain things about her. She understood their anger at being shut out - she couldn't deny that she missed them terribly - that the loneliness creeping in was enough to keep her awake at night. Slowly, she was working to correct her behavior and repay the debt to her friends, but she was beginning to feel like they were looking for reasons to bicker with her.

"Do you think you could teach me to play? Not now, of course, but sometime?"

Hawke looked up, startled by the sound of Anders' quiet voice. She was grateful for the interruption to her internal rant. She'd been working herself into a lather, and no good would come of venting her spleen on her friend.

"Have you ever played an instrument before?"

Anders shook his head. "I've never really had time to learn…Or had enough contact with a single person to be taught."

His tone was heavily laced with bitterness at the end, and Hawke's heart ached for him. The Circle and the Wardens both had taken so much from her friend, so many things she had taken for granted; a loving family, friends, but perhaps the simplest of all was an outlet to vent her frustration. Andes had never truly known any of these things. When you were an apostate, a fugitive, forming attachments became dangerous. When you were a mage, caring for anyone gave the Templars that much more control over you.

"Of course I will teach you, Anders. I would have offered long ago if I'd known you were interested. I tried to teach Merrill once, but she was hopeless. She just couldn't concentrate on her fingering." Anders interrupted her with a giggle. "Very mature." Hawke said.

He ignored her comment and put on his warmest smile. "I'm interested in everything you do." He was hoping for one of her famous blushes, and was disappointed to find that she saved them for Fenris and his awkward method of flirting. The elf made Anders frown. Even when he wasn't present, he was an intrusion.

"There is something I would like to talk to you about, and I would like you to keep an open mind."

Hawke looked at him, suddenly wary. Pleasant conversation rarely started out his way. "What is it?" She asked, wincing at her flat tone.

"I know it's not my place," this came out grudgingly. "But what's going on between you and Fenris? Is it serious?"

Hawke had to admit she was taken aback by the question. "Sometimes I think it has always been serious. I love him. I think I've loved him from the very beginning." It felt good to say the words again after imprisoning them in the silence of her heart for so long. She only whished he was here to know of her declaration. She decided she would make herself known to him when she returned.

Her words were a knife twisting in Anders' heart. He struggled for a moment to find some way to breathe. He had always known that was the way of it, but hearing her say it so simply, so plainly - he felt the humiliating burn of tears behind his eyes. He swallowed hard and swore not to let a single one escape. His breath finally returned to him, and with it came a flood of words that he would later regret.

"In the name of all that's holy, why?" He demanded. "What could you possibly see in him? What does he see in you? He fucking hates mages with a passion, Hawke. How does he justify that to you? How can you accept it?"

"Fenris doesn't hate mages. To an extent, he sympathizes with our plight, but you have to understand-"

"He has lat one bad experience warp his entire perception of the world! Surely you want someone more open-minded."

"Someone like you?" She asked in a quiet tone that Anders took to be decidedly unflattering. Hawke sighed heavily. "Have the Templars not driven you nearly mad in this secret war? Don't you feel like you're just one man against an army bent on ripping you away from your life and enslaving you? You two are so much alike, sometimes I think that is why you cannot stand each other."

"Then why him and not me? What is it?" Maker, he wished he hadn't just asked her that question, but he needed to hear the answer. He recalled Justice's warning to him on the day he'd met her. _She will not choose you._ The spirit echoed the memory bleakly.

Hawke swallowed a grimace. She thought she'd made herself clear to him even before meeting Fenris. At first, it had only been Justice that kept her from seeing him that way, but over the years, she had gotten to know him. They agreed on most of the important subjects (like mage freedom), but they bickered constantly over the details. In Hawke's heart of hearts, Anders was her brother. The thought of kissing him now made her feel a little nauseous.

"You didn't have to add that last bit." Anders said, when she explained. "But Fenris? How? _How_ can you love that man? He seems so dark and broody and hypocritical and inhuman."

"You don't know anything about him." Hawke said. Her eyes were green ice. "But you're right about one thing. He isn't human. I actually thought that was one of his most attractive qualities. He stood by me, a mage, after coming from a land of dark magic. He has protected me, watched over me, trusted me, and I trust him. He is the candle that lights my path through the darkness."

"I could see that. Those tattoos get pretty bright." Anders deliberately missed the point.

"You make fun, but I'm serious. I was a broken person before I met Fenris, but when I'm with him I feel like I could become whole again."

"Fenris is broken! How can he make you whole?"

"Because we fit together. I feel something with him that I've never felt with anyone else. I'm sorry if that hurts you, that was never my intention, but I have never misled you. I do love you, Anders, but I love you like-"

"Do not call me your brother! Do not! Do you think that beast will stand beside you in the fight ahead? A war is brewing, Hawke, whether you are willing to see it or not. Do you think your elf will stand with you for mage freedom?" Anders was nearly at the end of his rope, and Justice was beginning to shine through. "Or will you stand with him? With the Templars? You never did hate them properly." Hawke's full-armed slap staggered him and set his ears to ringing.

"Fenris has proven himself to me again and again. The fact that you yourself are still free is a credit to his loyalty. Your jealousy is completely uncalled for. It wouldn't matter if I was with Fenris or not, because it will never be you! There. You made me say it."

Anders knew a moment of alarm as Justice clawed for control. He gave in, certain the spirit would be able to make his point more eloquently. "He acts like he owns you, Selene! For all that he rails against slavery, he is no different from the man holding the leash. He's changing you. He draws you farther and farther away from our cause. Tell me truly, if you had to choose, it would be him, wouldn't it? Fenris' love over the freedom of an enslaved race. Your people are suffering, _Champion_. You have a responsibility." He caught her wrist in a crushing grip before she could slap him again. "Please stop doing that."

"It _is_ war, and it cannot be won overnight. My relationship with Fenris isn't going to change that. And you have a lot of nerve lecturing me about my commitment to mage freedom!"

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, the addition of your voice is detrimental to our cause. Whatever your plans, you are an abomination, and Merrill is a blood mage. You are the reason the Circle exists, and I _do_ believe there should be a special prison for mages, guarded by the Templars. Who else could contain them? Not all mages are innocent, and you know this. What I mean, Anders, is that if mages like you were stronger, mages like me wouldn't have suffered so much. If mages like you were stronger, imprisonment wouldn't be an issue today. You're all the same, looking for the fast way, the easy way. You think you can rise up and fight, but the Circle in Ferelden showed us that won't work. We need time and patience to win this war, and we may not live to see the end of it. You don't want justice, you want revenge."

"An eye for an eye, Hawke." He kept his grip on her hand. Physical contact with her was a rare and precious gift to him.

"If we lived that way, the whole world would be blind. Alrik is dead. You can't punish them all for the acts of a few. How is that any different from what they've done to you?"

"It's not just me. It's you. And Karl, and all the other mages who've suffered under the Templar Order. With a lunatic like Meredith in charge, we don't have time for a generations-long silent war. Sometimes you have to take a stand."

"If you come at Meredith directly, she will invoke the Right of Annulment. No one will make a stand when every mage in Kirkwall is either slain or Tranquil."

"Meredith is just a person. She can be removed from the equation."

"You won't win mage freedom with blood magic or pacts with demons, and you won't win by killing the Knight-Commander. You're like flies, bumping against the glass and wondering why you can't get through. You have to work around the system to win. We have to win the hearts of the people. You made a good start with the clinic, and together we saved this city from the Qunari. This is a political war, not a battle. Why can't you see that?"

"You cannot ride the fence forever, Hawke. Sooner or later, everyone in Kirkwall will have to choose a side."

With a snarl of outrage, Hawke wrenched her hand free of Anders' grasp and turned to walk stiffly away from the safety of their camp, pausing only to pick up her guitar on her way out.

"Where do you think you're going?" He demanded.

"I'm going to find something to kill!" She shouted over her shoulder. She was certain her guitar would be more than suitable for attracting the wrong kind of attention. Anders could be so bull-headed sometimes, it drove her crazy even as it cemented his position as her brother. Did he really think violence would win freedom for mages? That would be the worst thing that could happen. Did he really believe her relationship with Fenris would change her opinion of the Circle? Why was he so jealous? She had never given him a reason to believe in a romantic future between them, but still he persisted. Had no woman ever refused him?

She stalked the tunnels of the mines, fuming and finding no threat until she came to a great cavern that looked suitable to her needs. Moving to a spot where she could keep an eye on all the entrances, she cradled her guitar in her hands and welcomed the familiar rush of mana through her blood and lightning through her fingertips. It had been a long time since she'd gotten this angry. _Anders._ He looked to her for guidance, but questioned every decision she made. Hawke took a deep breath and mover her fingertips over the strings with perhaps more force than was strictly necessary. It didn't take long. She could hear them moving in the tunnels and she smiled. The spiders were coming. Things were about to get interesting.

**oOo**

Anders very much wanted to go after her, but he knew just as strongly that Hawke did not want to see him right now. It had been a terrible mistake letting Justice speak for him. The sound of the furious rage from her guitar reached his ears before the sound of her voice did, beautiful and intoxicating in her anger. He strained to hear, but her voice had to travel so far and bounced off so many rocks that all he could make out was a sweet echo that seemed to go on and on. His dismay nearly overwhelmed him, however, when the sound of Hawke's voice was drowned out by the clacking rustle of an army of spiders marching toward her.

_She can't possibly handle so many alone._ He told himself, but he knew it wasn't true. He hated to admit it, but she didn't need him. She didn't need anybody. She survived on her own mana and still had enough to fight and protect her friends. It was easy to imagine Hawke standing alone against an army and emerging victorious. Giant spiders were no challenge for her; not while she was the hunter. None of this stopped Anders from taking up his staff and going after her.

She was easy to find. If her music wasn't enough to draw him to her, there was the occasional - but growing more frequent - flash of light followed by the hissing scream of a disgusting creepy-crawly. Anders picked up his pace a little. He couldn't see her attacks, but they didn't seem to interrupt her song, and he was curious to see how she was doing it. Did the guitar work as a staff?

His jaw dropped as he came upon the place where Hawke was fighting, and he felt himself stumble back a few steps. A storm was raging in the cavern and the epicenter swirled in a mass of dark clouds and lightning about Hawke's head. She was playing a new song now, and something in the tone of it suggested that she knew he was there. He couldn't focus on whether or not this was a good thing. All of his attention was centered on the scene before him. Lumps of charred, steaming spider flesh littered the ground around her, but still more were coming. They didn't seem to notice or care that they had to climb over the corpses of their own kind to get to what they thought was their prey.

Hawke let them get closer than Anders liked, but before he could raise his staff to assist her, a massive bolt of lightning struck from the storm she had created, incinerating the two spiders closest to her. This seemed to cause a chain reaction. Just as his vision cleared from the first strike, a cluster of smaller (although still quite lethal) lightning bolts crackled around the cavern, raising the hair on Anders' arms and killing anything they touched. Powerful as her attacks were, they still did nothing to stem the seemingly unending flow of spiders. He took back the few steps he'd retreated, desperate to feel useful, to help her in any way he could. She looked at him for the first time, her green eyes glowing so brightly that he almost stepped back again. He told himself that he was not afraid of her, but she did not look happy to see him.

"Gather your drakestone!" She shouted over the roar of her guitar. "The mine will never be safer than this!"

"You need help!" He argued, stepping forward once more.

"Go!" The word seemed to echo around the cavern, commanding him in a thousand voices. Anders ran, feeling more like a coward than he ever had in his life.

**oOo**

"That was impressive last night." Anders said, as they made their way through the rear exit that Hawke promised was there. "Why don't you fight like that more often?"

"With my guitar? How do you know I don't?" She very much did not want to tell him that was the first time she'd tried anything like that.

Anders smiled and rolled his eyes. "I mean with us. Why don't you fight like that with us?"

She was saved from having to answer by the thunderous scream of a High Dragon. A very angry high dragon, bent on protecting her nest, which Hawke and Anders had unwittingly stumbled into.

"Well, are you happy now?" Anders shouted above the din. "You found the fucking dragons!"

Hawke didn't answer. She could only stare, stunned at the vast nest of drakes and dragonlings, and even a few dragons that were nearly fully grown. They were all staring back at her, ravenous intelligence shining in their beady eyes. She would have said 'don't move,' but it was far too late for caution. The mother had already spotted them, so Hawke did the only thing that occurred to her. Cold crept into her fingertips and she stepped forward.

"What are you doing?" Anders whispered frantically from the corner of his mouth.

"It's too late to turn back now." Her voice was low, but confident as wave after wave of icicles burst from the ground to punch through the heavily armored flesh of young dragons. She took a deep breath and held it as she took another step forward. She had killed some of the dragons, but there were more. Many more.

A bitterly cold wind ruffled Anders' hair, and a frozen fog rose around them as Hawke released the breath she had been holding. He shivered, not knowing if it was from the cold or the force of nature by his side. The dragons screeched and tried to spit fire at them, but only smoke came out. They stretched their wings and marched forward, trying to intimidate the mages with their size. They made a fair show of it, but their movements were slow, lethargic. Another forest of icicles rent the earth, tearing into the dragonlings closest to them. High above, but closing the distance fast, the high dragon screamed her rage.

_**She's going to get us killed**__._ Justice mused. The spirit sounded almost admiring. All the same, Anders knew Justice had no more desire for harm to befall Hawke than he himself did. They loved her together, and together they would work to protect her. They summoned a healing shield that would preserve her life as long as she didn't travel out of range of the spell. Even together, they could not accomplish what she could alone. The spell was a serious detriment to his attacks, but it was worth the risk. _**The elf will make slow work of us if we don't bring her back in one piece.**_They shared a bitter sentiment.

The ground shook heavily as the mother dragon slammed into the earth. She had lost a third of her brood already, and with Hawke's frozen mist, the rest were substantially weakened. She spat furious hellfire at the mages and roared with outrage over the lack of effect. She stood on her hind legs and spread her massive wings. If she could not burn them, she would dash them against the rocks.

Hawke braced herself against the gale force wind she knew was coming and she felt Anders come up against her back. He circled an anchoring arm around her.

"Hold on." He commanded, softly.

"It's not enough." She murmured to herself. Even their combined weight would not be enough to withstand the force that was gathering itself against them. She had to think of something else. She had to do something. She had to… "Down, now!" She dropped to a crouch, thankful that Anders had obeyed her. She dug her fingers into the earth, _felt_ the earth, felt every root, every mole and worm that resided there. The mana flowed into her fingertips and she wiggled them experimentally. The earth moved with her. She was vaguely aware of Anders babbling frantically in her ear, but she suddenly felt as though she had all the time in the world. She painted a picture in her mind and pressed her hands deep into the ground, using her mana to bend the earth to her will.

Anders knew that being smacked against the side of the mine probably wouldn't kill them, but it would break some very important bones. He was explaining to Hawke that he didn't think ducking was the best strategy when a wall of rock grew from nothing in front of them. Wind howled around them, whipping their hair and furiously tearing at their clothes but the shield Hawke had summoned sheltered them from the worst of it.

Earth had always been her weakest element, but Hawke didn't have time to be proud of her work. With a frustrated scream, the dragon whipped her tail at them - fifty feet long and heavier than a tree trunk, there was no spell Hawke could think to summon that would stop that attack. She felt Anders curl himself around him protectively, cursing quietly to himself. Apparently, he felt the same way. They braced themselves for the pain they both knew was coming.

The tail crashed into them hard. Hawke winced that the sound of Anders' ribs breaking as well as his shoulder as he bore the brunt of the attack. They were dragged along the ground for what felt like a mile, but was actually only a few feet. Sharp rocks and jagged bone ripped through Hawke's leather corset and pants easily, biting deep to leave bloody gashes along her back and thighs. She did not heal as she should have. Ander's shield was gone and she could heal herself now, but it still hurt like a fucking bitch whore.

"Are you alright?" She had to shout over the sound of screeching lizards. Anders' weight was pressing her hard into the rocks, he wasn't moving. His body was slower to heal than hers, so she wrapped him in the gentle flow of her own magic. Her breath caught in her throat at the extent of the damage. His spine had broken in several places and one of his broken ribs had punctured a lung; all to protect her. She should have been more careful. This should never have happened. It made her furious. _It should never have happened!_

With an agonized cry, she pushed Anders off her and staggered to her feet. Gripping _Freedom's Promise_ in her hands, she gathered a hard frost inside of herself. The lyrium wolves in her staff flared to life, opening her up to an impossible amount of mana. She slammed the butt of her staff into the ground, and a spire of ice slammed up from the ground to tear into the soft underbelly of the high dragon.

The dragon screamed in pain and struggled to take to the air again, raining gallons of blood down on her opponents as she regained her flight. Anders was on his feet again, but Hawke was trying to keep him out of the fight. He did his best to follow her lead, spraying the oncoming dragonlings with a barrage of icy shrapnel, but his spell was barely finished before a gust of wind that had never come from a dragon pushed him back several feet.

"Focus on healing!" Hawke shouted furiously over her shoulder.

"You don't need healing!" He shouted back. "I can fight!" Did she really mean to take the whole brood on her own? Certainly she was capable, but it was a foolish risk, nonetheless.

"_Stay back!_" She screamed, frustrated. She couldn't fight feely if she had to worry about his safety. Before he could argue, she dropped to her knees and dug her fingers once more into earth softened by ice and water and blood. She could feel the dragonlings advancing, could feel the thrum of their vicious march, their claws digging into the same earth that enveloped her hands. She knew what she had to do now, and prayed that Anders had the good sense to listen to her and stay away. She focused on what she wanted, painted the picture in her mind, then spread her fingers wide, rending ten long fissures in the earth. Dragons screamed and died as the ground crumbled away beneath them. Hawke wasn't sure how deep the hole she had created went, or if it even had a bottom. She only knew that death lived there, so when the last dragonling fell, she closed the earth again before she removed her hands and ended the spell. Now there was only a pissed off high dragon mother to contend with. Hawke wasn't sure she could make a hole big enough to swallow that. She wasn't sure she had the strength to. Between this and the storm the night before, she was starting to feel the strain. She was going to have to see Jethann sooner than her next appointment. She decided it would be the last time.

_Fenris…_ Hawke frowned. Why was she thinking about Fenris now? Anders was shouting and running toward her, but his movements seemed slow and exaggerated. The world suddenly flipped upside down, spinning around and around as if it had lost its axis. A hot stale wind buffeted her until she landed on something very hard and very sharp. Pain crashed into her as she realized what was happening. Powerful jaws snapped shut, crushing her leg between massively jagged teeth and blocked out the light of the world.

_It's going to eat me._ The thought was surprisingly lucid.

There wasn't time to panic. There was suddenly light and she was flying through the air again, acutely aware of Anders screaming for her to hold on, that he was coming. It was ridiculous, of course. How would he even get to where she was? She was grateful to him for healing her leg, though. The world went dark again, and she howled as she was perforated through her middle and her arm was forced backward at the elbow. She didn't come loose right away when the dragon shook her, and she thought for a horrifying moment that she might actually be torn in half. Then she was airborne and Anders was healing her again, and she had to think of something fast. She had never killed a high dragon before, but she was pretty sure this wasn't the way to do it. She didn't have time. Anders was going to get himself killed trying to save her. She had to gather all the mana she could now if she wanted to live. Curling herself into a ball, she opened herself to it, drawing more and more until she thought she would burst; she'd drown in it and be carried away. When she saw her chance, she dove into the dragon's mouth.

**oOo**

The sound of Hawke's scream as the dragon bit into her roared in Anders' ears. She was too far away for his healing shield to help, so he ran forward, as close as he dared, and healed her when he saw the chance.

_**She's not going to make it. We're going to lose her! **_Justice's voice was frantic in Anders' mind, but for once, he didn't try to take control. They were stronger together, and there wasn't time to bicker over method. It didn't matter how hard he tried or how fast he worked, there were always fresh injuries to be healed. Even if he could keep up, she might die of blood loss before the dragon let her go.

Then something unthinkable happened. The dragon tossed Hawke into the air one final time, and Anders could feel her mana pool building into a tidal wave. His heart in his throat, he threw one last healing sell at her and watched, bleak and helpless as she twisted in the air and dove cleanly and deliberately into the dragon's mouth. Massive jaws snapped shut and Anders was all alone with a high dragon.

_That's it. She's gone._ Anders wasn't sure if the thought belonged to him or to Justice. He wasn't sure if he had said it aloud or not. He felt numb. He didn't move as the dragon turned her attention towards him. He didn't try to attack or protect himself, didn't care to.

The dragon reared back and opened her mouth as if to spit fire, but only steam came out. She coughed, tossing her head and snuffing hard. She screamed furiously, her breath ruffling Anders' hair like a cool spring breeze…Well, a spring breeze that reeked of death. Realizing that all was not as it should be, the dragon screamed - or tried to. Only a choked squeal came out. She stumbled and thrashed her head against the side of the mine, trying to knock the obstruction free. The ground shook beneath Anders' feet and he dove to avoid the lumbering dragon. She seemed not to notice him anymore, but that didn't mean she couldn't still crush him under her feet.

"Choke, you bitch." He muttered, grimly. Still numb with the shock of loss, he was barely aware of the spark of hope guttering in his heart. Hawke couldn't possibly be alive, but what else could it be choking on?

Steam poured from the dragon's mouth now and she was thrashing around more frantically than ever, her screeches reduced to frightened mewls. Water was dripping from her scales and Anders realized she was sweating. Reptiles don't sweat. Hawke was alive in there, and she was doing something.

_Please, Maker, let there be a chance…Just a chance to save her._ Anders prayed as he pounded his way toward the dragon once more, pelting it with ice and snow until a thick crust of frost grew around its head and neck. It whipped its tail at him, but the attack was slowed by the lack of oxygen, and Anders dodged it easily. _Please, please, please…_ More ice was building around the dragon than he could produce on his own. Hawke was helping him, but she couldn't last much longer trapped in there. He couldn't begin to imagine how hot it was inside a dragon.

The dragon couldn't last much longer either. She was gasping desperately, eyeing Anders almost pleadingly, definitely hopelessly. Cold-blooded she may be, but she knew better than to look to a human for help. She reared back one last time, trying to shake the ice from her head, but she stumbled into the side of the mine. She did scream then, a ground-shaking wail that threatened to take the Bone Pit down. She fell slowly, an eternity to Anders, who was waiting with his heart in his throat for Hawke to emerge and lecture him for not obeying her, for sticking with the fight. His heart dropped to his feet as the dragon's massive head slammed into the ground. The sound of its skull breaking echoed through the mountain. Anders dropped to his knees as the dragon's head crumbled to bits of red and black ice. Nothing stirred within the rubble of its remains.

_Where is she? Is she still alive? Could she have survived?_ Anders forced himself to his feet once more and ran toward the shattered dragon's head on unsteady legs. He practically dove into the pile of ice in his attempt to get to her. He waded in, not caring how cold it was, not considering the weight of the chunks of ice and flesh and bone he was heaving out of his way. He only knew that he had to find her. He would pull her back from the Fade if it came to that, but first he had to find her. Then he saw it. A broken, bloody hand peeking out from the dragon debris. He worked faster, shifting the pile more strategically to free her.

Hawke was lying facedown, splayed awkwardly across the rubble, covered head-to-toe in blood - hers and the dragon's. Her clothing, even her boots had been shredded to barely more than rags. She was alive, but fading fast. Anders turned her over gently, trying not to flinch as he heard her bones grinding together. She remained blessedly unconscious. He healed her using all of the knowledge, all of the power he possessed. He felt her bones shift back into place, punctured and bruised organs healed, her muscles and skin knitted back together as though none of it had ever happened. Even the burned, frazzled ends of her hair became shiny and smooth again. Anders frowned. She didn't open her eyes. She was being stubborn and remaining blessedly unconscious.

_She lost too much blood._ He decided, pulling a potion of elf root from his pocket. Then he noticed something he hadn't before. Her mana pool had substantially depleted, and it was slow to replenish. She was weaker than he was right now. It was a frightening thought to Anders. Just how much had that dragon taken out of her? He cradled her gently in his lap and tilted her head back. The elf root would help to replenish her low blood level; the mana could wait. He took a long drink from the bottle, then covered her mouth with his, using his tongue to feed her the potion a little at a time. At least that's how it started; but then the potion was gone and she was waking up and he was well and truly kissing her. He knew he shouldn't, she'd made her feelings on the subject painfully clear, but he'd never been this close to her before, and he knew he'd never get another chance. He had to try. He opened himself to his mana once more. He'd learned a trick when he was a boy in the Circle that drove the girls wild.

_**Don't.**_ Justice warned, but Anders didn't listen. He had lain awake at night for six years aching for this woman, and he couldn't stop himself now.

Consciousness returned slowly to Hawke, or at least it seemed slow. It was dark. She didn't like that. And it was cold. Maker, she was freezing. That was strange. It seemed like she'd been burning up only moments ago. The darkness spun around her and there was something warm over her mouth, feeding life back into her. She drank greedily from the lips of her savior, but then something changed. The source that had given her life had grown hungry and decided to exact payment. A shiver of pleasure raced to her core, and fear gripped her heart the way it hadn't in a long time.

_Caress? Am I in the Fade?_ But it didn't feel like the Fade, and Fenris had killed the demon years ago. She reached for her mana, but it only came to her in the barest of trickles. Panic rose up then, threatening to choke her. She was seventeen again, trapped between the Fade and the shack where Alrik held her. She couldn't find the light. She wanted to gag on the tongue that was invading her mouth, and she tried to fight, to turn away. Her body was slow to obey her, much slower than her captor. She realized what was happening now. Someone was holding her, kissing her; someone who wasn't Fenris. She fought harder, pushing feebly against broad shoulders.

"Please, Hawke…" A familiar voice murmured against her lips. The shiver of pleasure that had passed through her before suddenly became a torrent of ecstasy drowning out nearly every other emotion. All but shame. All the pleasure in the world would seem as nothing when compared with the intensity of the shame that washed over her as her body betrayed her and she threw her head back and arched against the man who held her, crying out with her release. Not just any man, she realized as her orgasm crashed into his, giving her a peak into his heart. It was dark there, desperate. It was Anders. Anders was doing this to her! Her eyes snapped open and she was suddenly pulling on stores of mana she wasn't aware she possessed. The telekinetic blast she lashed out with would have killed a lesser man, although at this point she couldn't name any man living who was less than Anders in her heart now. The thought made her want to cry, to scream, made her want to kill him. She didn't do any of these things. The second he had fallen away from her, Hawke turned and vomited until there was nothing left in her. _Anders…_She gagged again as her mind whispered his name. _You were my brother_. *gag* He was still unconscious in a heap twenty feet away. He was bleeding, but not badly. He would not die unless something came along and finished him off before he woke. She spat on the ground next to him and left him where he lay.

He caught up with her at the Wounded Coast. She could hear him loping along behind her, closing the distance, calling her name. She gritted her teeth and blocked out the sound. Tears burned her eyes, but she forced them down. The damage had been done, and she wasn't the same person she'd been back in Lothering; there was no sense in crying about it now. This was the world she lived in. She reached into her satchel for a lyrium potion. She almost killed him when she felt his hand on her shoulder, but there wasn't much point in trying. He had shielded himself against attack, and she was still too weak to break through. Only just.

"Hawke, wait! I'm s-"

She spun around and glared at Anders so ferociously that he took a step back, snatching his hand away as though she might cut it off. "'I'm sorry,' is that what you were going to say?" Death rode softly on the edge of her voice.

"Please, I didn't mean to let it go so far. I never meant to hurt you." Anders prayed there was a way to fix this. He only meant to give her a little thrill, to show her that dark broody elf wasn't the only one who could bring her pleasure. She didn't respond to his spell right away, so he tried again, stronger this time, never taking her past into account, conveniently forgetting that he knew what Caress had done to her. He never meant to press so far, and he hadn't been prepared for the earth shattering force of her orgasm. Mana had poured out of her and into him, sweeping him away; and in that moment he could see into her mind and her heart. Never had he encountered anything so pure, and in that moment, he could feel her horror, disgust, her rage, and most of all, her shame. Memories of her time with Alrik seeped into him, and even through all of that, he was horrified to feel his own orgasm taking him. He'd never some so hard in all his life, and he'd stolen it from her. What could he possibly say to her now?

"I need you, Selene. Please. I know you can never forgive me, but I might be able to do something to make it up to you if you will still help me."

"Help you." She scoffed, bitterly. She tossed back another vial of lyrium and let the magic fill her. She wasn't back to her full strength yet, but she was stronger than him now. She bared her teeth in a savage grin and he took another step back.

"I…I need to get into the Chantry without being seen. I need you to talk to the Grand Cleric long enough for me to sneak in and do what must be done." He flinched over his poor choice of words.

"What must be done? What is your plan? And don't feed me that shit about Justice because I don't buy it. You want to make it up to me?" As if he could. "Come clean, Anders."

"You would not thank me if I told you. Again and again you've told me you believe in me; countless times you have stood up for mage freedom. Whatever our differences, if you are a true believer like me, if you are the person I think you are, then trust me now. Help me do this for mages everywhere."

"Trust is a funny word, isn't it? So easy to say, so difficult to maintain. Quid pro quo. I will not walk blindly into a madman's scheme."

I cannot tell you, Hawke, please - unless your commitment to mage freedom stops at the Chantry door."

"That is the last time you question my motivations. After everything I have done for you…After what you've done to me…No. I cannot trust you. You've lost sight of the path, Anders. You're on your own."

He narrowed his eyes at her, true anger, true regret written across his features. "I have always been on my own. For a moment, I just forgot."

Hawke's telekinetic blast tore through his shield and sent him flying again. This time she did not check to see if he was alive before she left him. The spell had used more mana than it should have. Maker, she was tired. She needed to rest, but not here.

She stumbled through the streets of Hightown, wending her way home, completely oblivious to the way people were looking at her, unaware of the way her clothes hung as rags on her body, unaware that she was dyed red from head to toe with dragon's blood. Only one simple purpose drove her forward. Home. Rest. When she finally pushed open the door to her mansion, she took three steps into the foyer and collapsed.

**oOo**

Fenris tried to focus on his reading, but his mind kept wandering off in other directions, searching for Hawke. He sat the book down. He hadn't read more than a paragraph in the last hour anyway. He was too distracted. Where was Hawke? She had disappeared more than two days ago with Anders and he'd heard nothing of her since. He pinched the bridge of his nose in weary frustration. She'd promised him she wouldn't do this anymore. No. That wasn't accurate. She had promised she wouldn't go alone anymore. She was with the abomination. He smashed bottle number three against the wall. Like the two that went before, it did nothing to improve his mood. He didn't really think Anders would hurt her, but he didn't trust him with his little mage.

His brooding was interrupted by a desperate and insistent pounding at his door. He knew it couldn't be Hawke, she never knocked. He reached for his sword and opened the door. He looked down at the dwarf and blinked. Fear wrapped icy fingers around his throat and threatened to choke him. It was Sandal. He was tear-stained and smeared with blood.

"Bird!" The dwarven boy sobbed, taking Fenris' hand in both of his and tugging him outside. "Bird! Bird!"

_Bird…_That was his name for Hawke. Fenris gripped Sandal's hand and ran for her estate as though the devil himself was on his heels. When he burst through the door, Hawke was still lying unconscious on the floor. Orana had lifted her head onto her lap and wept softly as she wiped the blood away from her mistress' face.

"What the hell-?" Fenris dropped to his knees at the sight of the bloody pile of rags that was his love.

"She isn't injured that I could find, but she won't wake up. There's so much blood and I didn't know what to do. She won't wake up." Orana choked on her words as a fresh sob broke through.

Fenris looked to Sandal for answers, but the boy seemed to have disappeared. "Draw her a bath." He commanded Orana, gently. "And one for yourself. Then go to bed. Everything will be fine." He wished he felt as confident as he sounded. He cradled Selene against his chest and carried her to the washroom. His tattoos flared to life as he noticed that her mana pool was nearly empty. Perhaps she could draw lyrium from him as she had once before. She did not.

Orana was silent as she prepared two baths, but she watched from the corner of her eye as Fenris laid Hawke gently on the cot and began the careful task of pulling her clothes away from where they had stuck to her skin. She didn't know why Sandal had chosen to bring back this man instead of the healer, but she was grateful for it. She did not like the way that other mage looked at her mistress. Perhaps Anders would have been the more logical choice, but Orana knew that Fenris would do anything in his power to help Hawke. Maybe more. That man would move mountains for her mistress, and in her opinion, her mistress deserved to have mountains moved for her. As bleak as the situation was, it warmed her heart to see the dark elf kneeling by Hawke's side, holding her hand to his lips as he stared down at her with concern.

"Both baths are for her." She said, breaking the reverie. "I think she just might need two. There are fresh towels on the table." She whispered from the room. She did not think her mistress would want to be seen in such a weakened state.

"Orana?" Fenris stopped her at the door. "Everything really will be alright." She nodded once, but he did not see her. He was lowering Hawke into the first bath. The water turned pink instantly and he grimaced. _This had better not be your blood, Hawke._ He reached for the soap and a washcloth and began the slow task of washing the blood from where the water had failed to lift it away. Maker, she really was covered in it. He scrubbed gently across her shoulders, her breasts, her belly and back, then lower to her legs and between. There was no heat in his actions, only gentle concern as his tattoos flared to life again, begging her once more to draw upon his lyrium. Still she did not respond, so he worked up a lather and washed the matted blood from her hair. He rinsed her hair several times, but the water didn't run clear, so he washed it again before transferring her to the other tub and beginning the whole process anew. She never woke, never so much as fluttered her long eyelashes, and Fenris began to worry that something was broken inside her; or worse than that, she was trapped in the Fade, empty of mana and fighting for her life. He was going to have to do something soon.

He wrapped her in a long, fluffy towel and carried her up to her bed. Then he went to search her satchel for a lyrium potion. Snatching up the strongest one he could find, Fenris returned to Hawke and shifted her on the bed so that she reclined against his chest. He activated his tattoos once more, and he tilted her head back to allow a small trickle of the potion down her throat at a time, pausing now and again to make sure she was taking it. He knew there were more intimate ways to administer the lyrium, but he could not imagine she would be pleased to find him kissing her awake if he had not been there when sleep took her. They tread on fragile ground as it was.

Fenris heaved a shuddering sigh of relief when he felt her begin to pull the lyrium from his tattoos. He fed her the remainder of the potion, then wrapped his arms around her and buried his face in her hair, breathing her in. Maker, he hadn't been sure she would come back to him. She stirred in his arms.

"Fenris?" Her voice was a hoarse whisper.

"I'm here, love." He said, gently. "You're home. You're safe." That was all that mattered. He could find out what happened later. Right now she was trembling and turning in his embrace to wrap her arms around him and bury her face in his chest. He could almost feel the dam break as Hawke burst into silent tears. She would not look at him, would not speak to him, only cry and cry into his chest. Fenris was at a loss. Hawke took great care not to be seen in tears. He didn't know what else to do, so he just held her and stroked her hair and whispered soft words to her until she cried herself out. She clung to him when he tried to move off the bed so she could lie down properly. She was still weak as a kitten.

"Fenris?" Her voice was shy, hesitant, as if she hadn't been sobbing all over him a moment ago. "Stay with me tonight? I don't want to be alone."

He hugged her tight and pressed a kiss into her hair. "I have absolutely no intention of leaving you tonight, Selene." He assured her. "I just want to change my shirt and send a message. I'm not leaving the house. I'll be right back." She didn't hear him. She was already asleep.

He trotted downstairs with a face carved from stone and scrawled a hasty message:

**Found Hawke. COME NOW!**

He handed the note to Bodahn and told him to run.

He didn't have to wait long. Aveline came storming in, filled with confidence and uncertainty. An awkward combination. "What's happened?" She demanded.

"I don't know." He admitted. "She doesn't want to talk right now, but when I got here she was collapsed in the foyer with shredded clothes and covered in blood. I mean covered, Aveline. Like she'd been dipped in it. She had no mana left. None. I don't know what happened, but I know she was with Anders. I think you'd better find him…If he's alive."

"What do you want me to do if he is?"

His voice was grim. "I trust you, Aveline. Do what you think is best,"

Aveline nodded briskly and made for the door. Not one to waste time, Aveline Vallen. Fenris wished he was the one going, but then he wouldn't be the one staying. He pulled his tear-stained shirt over his head and went upstairs to be with the woman he loved. To guard her sleep the way he had so long ago.


	25. Chapter 25

_Female Hawke mage, eventual Fenris romance. Rated M for language, violence, sexual content, and suggestive themes. This is my first piece of fan fiction, so reviews are welcome and hoped for. Bioware owns everything, naturally. _

_**SMUT!…and mushiness**_

**Sexual Healing**

Fenris learned late that night that Aveline had beaten Anders within an inch of his life. She had only let him live because Hawke had not killed him, and that meant something. Apparently, the mage did not fight back, didn't try to defend himself or heal himself. Anders was in disgrace. He'd sent a message around to the estate, filled with sniveling apologies for what he had done, as if that could make up for anything! When he gave her the note, she threw it away without reading it and growled that she had to seal his entrance to her home.

Instead, she spent the early part of the day in bed with Fenris, almost disappointed (in a warm sort of way) that he hadn't pressed his advantage. No matter how sick she felt about what happened with Anders yesterday, she couldn't deny that she was admiring the way lean muscles rippled across the chest and belly of her lyrium wolf. She smiled at the absent way he trailed his fingers up and down her arm, seeming content just to hold her. Still, the silence was charged with something awkward. Something he would never force from her; she would have to give it to him on her own. So she did.

Fenris felt the burning hand of white-hot rage squeezing his heart as Hawke relayed her account of the two days she had been gone. She tried to make it sound like the abomination hadn't really used her, hadn't really taken advantage of her when she was most vulnerable. Unbidden, his tattoos lit the room. The shame that rode Selene's tone enraged him. The way she tried to defend him, insisting that she would have died had he not been there. Faugh! She would never have been in danger if he had not dragged her there! He should never have sent Aveline to find Anders. Fenris would never have spared the abomination's miserable, twisted life. Not after he had forced himself on his sweet little mage. His muscles twitched with unresolved violence.

"Fenris?"

Selene filled his vision as she propped herself up on one elbow to stare down at him, beautiful and angelic as ever, but there was a haunted look that lingered in her eyes. He smiled tenderly and reached up to cup her cheek. He was surprised when she leaned into his touch, surprised that she had slept so close to him last night, never breaking contact. He was surprised that she was able to trust him after what Anders had done; surprised that she was able to trust any man after what she had been through.

"Yes, love?" He tried to be gentle, but his voice sounded rough to his ears.

"You understand why I let him live, don't you?" She couldn't look him in the eye as she asked him this.

"No. You were too merciful by half. I've come to expect that from you, I suppose, but Aveline…She surprised me. I never expected her to be lenient." He trembled violently, and Hawke laid a cool hand against his forehead, calming him. A little.

"Anders was as a brother to me." He could hear the revulsion in her voice. "I can never forgive him. Never that. I would as soon never look upon his face again, but I cannot kill him."

"Can I? He put your life in danger. He betrayed-"

"I have already killed one brother." Her voice was quiet, but her words seemed to echo around the room.

A million retorts raced through Fenris' mind. _He is not your brother! He is an abomination! He raped you!_ Although he wasn't sure the last was strictly accurate, it didn't matter. He went against her wishes and took the choice away from her. There was no punishment strong enough; no favor great enough that would earn that man his life back. Still, when he imagined Selene crying over her father, then her sister, then Carver, and Leandra; when he thought of her as she was when she came back from the Deep Roads, he remained silent. He thought the effort might kill him. It was almost worth it when she smiled sweetly. He hadn't thought to see smiles from her so soon.

"You are trying so hard to be supportive." Her voice was warm, the barest whisper of amusement played around the edge. "I want you to understand something, Fenris." Her smile turned feral and her eyes became green ice. "Death would have been merciful. Do not doubt that I hate him for what he did." Her voice broke and Fenris caught a tear as it slipped down her cheek. "But I want him to live, to suffer. I don't know what I'm going to do to him, but before I am done he will pray for death. Then, if you want, you can kill him. He'll hate that."

Fenris smiled and hugged her tight, crushing her to his chest. "That's my girl."

Hawke sighed and hugged him back. Beneath the warm beat of his heart, she could hear his stomach growl. "Do you want breakfast?" She asked, resting her chin on his chest.

"I am a man. I always want breakfast." It was true. Fenris loved the smell of a warm kitchen in the morning. If normal had a smell…

"To the kitchen, then." Hawke smiled, sliding her body along his as she rose to her hands and knees. She loomed over him for a long moment, an unfathomable expression on her face before bouncing off the bed and padding behind the privacy screen to change out of her nightdress.

Fenris watched with a dry mouth as the silhouette of Selene undress. He felt like a cad for admiring her full curves and narrow waist. Her legs seemed impossibly long for such a small person. She was beauty and grace incarnate, and she was showing amazing strength and resilience. She seemed more upset about losing Anders' friendship than anything. He could not understand it.

She came out a moment later wearing a tight-fitting white cotton camisole and a pair of baggy black cotton pants. Fenris wondered briefly if it would be wrong to try to lure her back into bed. He discarded the thought with a regretful sigh and got out of bed. He never did find another shirt, and after a night of sleep, his pants hung loose on his hips. She must think he looked lie a slob, but he stood up straight, squaring his shoulders confidently when he felt her eyes lick over him. He didn't know what about him she found attractive, how he was lucky enough to be the one to earn her love and her trust, but he wanted to do something special for her. He followed eagerly after her when she threw a smile over her shoulder and padded to the kitchen.

Hawke sat a bemused Fenris down at the table as she bustled around the kitchen, gathering ingredients from the pantry. It felt good to her to do something as normal as making breakfast for the man she loved. It had a calming effect on her nerves. All she wanted to do was fall into Fenris' arms and beg him to make love to her and wash away the memory of Andres' touch, make her forget the way he had forced his way into her mind. She felt like the mage had tried to drive a wedge between her and Fenris, and she reached out desperately to breach the gap.

"Do you want some help?" His smooth voice interrupted her thoughts in an eerily accurate way.

"You cook?" She asked, with an insulting amount of surprise.

"I manage to keep it down." Fenris grinned.

"That's alright. I think I'm rather enchanted with the idea of cooking for you."

_That makes two of us._ Fenris wasn't the sort of man who believed a woman's place was in the kitchen, but he would not deny that he enjoyed the sight of his little mage making Orlesian-style toast and crispy bacon. He was pleasantly surprised when she set a glass of freshly squeezed orange juice before him and a bowl of ripe red strawberries with whipped sweet cream. She hummed a sweet little tune as she worked, and he was entranced. She smiled when she set his plate before him and settled down across from him to eat.

"Is something wrong?" She asked when he only stared down at his plate.

"Tell me, Hawke, is there anything you don't do?"

"I don't know why you're so surprised. My mother was noble, but I came from a common background."

"I find that hard to believe. Common is not a word I would associate with you." He said dryly, taking a bite of his toast. Warm vanilla and cinnamon danced lightly on his tongue, and something else; a spice he couldn't quite place. It was delicious.

"Lothering was a poor town; a farming community. We all did our part to help with the chores. I have the same calluses on my hands as any person who lives in Lowtown. I like working around the house. It makes me feel normal."

"I thought you'd gotten over that." He teased. He was absolutely enthralled with watching her lick the cream from a strawberry before biting into it. His heart skipped a beat when he felt the soft touch of her fingers on his.

"I have a few things I have to take care of today. Nothing dangerous." She hastened to add when he looked at her sharply. "I need to speak with Hubert and the families of the men who died in the mine. There are a few other things. I'll be back and forth between Hightown and Lowtown, but there is something else I'd like to talk to you about later tonight if you're going to be home."

"I can't come with you?" His heart constricted painfully at the thought of being separated from her again so soon, even for a little while.

"I think these are things better done alone, but I promise I will call on your by sunset if you will permit it."

_Are we strangers suddenly? Why is she being so formal?_ "You seem nervous about something. Are you sure you don't want to talk now?"

Hawke smiled tenderly. "Better to wait. I'm not excited about the visits I'll be making, and I'd rather get that out of the way first. I would rather come to you with a clear mind."

"You make it sound so clandestine." It was unlike her to make these kinds of plans with him. She usually came and went according to her own whims, if he saw her at all. Fenris wasn't sure if he should be pleased or worried. _Oh well. This gives me some time to pay Anders a little visit._ He gave Hawke's fingers a gentle squeeze and promised he would be at home when she arrived. He was wildly curious to see where she might be going with this.

**oOo**

Even the most hardened man stepped out of the way of the elf who stalked Darktown with a purposeful stride and a predator's eye. He knew right where to find the abomination, and he itched to see Aveline's handiwork. The man had dared to send a message in the night, begging her to meet with him, pleading for her forgiveness. Fenris had wanted to burn the note, but he did not think Hawke would appreciate such dishonesty. She had tried so hard to comfort him, _comfort him_, and the harder she tried to soothe him, the angrier he became until his rage threatened to consume him if he did not find an outlet. But Hawke wasn't ready to lose the man she called her brother yet, although Fenris couldn't begin to imagine why. Could he do this without killing him? He would try.

"I expected to see you last night. I suppose you've come to kill me."

Fenris could hear the pain in Anders' voice. Pain. Not longing for death. Hawke was right. He needed to suffer more. The mage staggered to his feet and turned to face him, his bruises fading as he did.

"If I meant to kill you, you wouldn't have heard me coming. But I am going to hurt you, Anders. You can fight if you want, but you won't win."

"So, you and Aveline are just going to take turns working me over?"

"I'm sure you'll be receiving visits from Varric and Sebastian eventually…Not to mention Isabella. She had a debt to repay."

"Is Selene alright?" Agony stained Anders' voice, seasoned liberally with shame for what he had done.

Maker, the elf was fast. Anders had known Fenris would attack him, but he still hadn't seen him coming. Suddenly the blue-white glow of the elf's tattoos were blinding him and he was pressed against the wall, the breath stolen from his lungs. Pain ripped its way through his chest and he threw back his head to scream, but no sound came out.

"You will not speak her name." Fenris snarled. "She loved you, trusted you, and you betrayed her!"

Anders felt the ground disappear from beneath him, and Justice clawed from control. _**He's really going to kill us.**_

"That's right. Turn to your friend for help, _abomination_."

"Hawke loves Anders." Justice boomed. "She will hate you if you-" His words were cut off as Fenris tightened his grip inside his chest.

"Hawke loves _me._ She doesn't give a shit about you. Either of you. You will never know forgiveness for what you have done. You are beyond redemption." The ground rushed up to meet Anders when Fenris finally let go. He placed several brutal kicks to his midsection. "I never said you could fucking heal yourself. You've gone and ruined all of Aveline's hard work."

"I will prove myself to Hawke. She will love me again." Anders grunted between kicks. He was suddenly hauled to his feet and Fenris' bestial snarling face filled his vision.

"Do I have to remove your tongue, Andres?" He pressed one finger hard into the mage's skull. "Is that the only way you can be taught to be silent?"

Anders did scream then, long and loud as he felt Fenris' finger burrowing ever closer to his brain. The kind of scream that sent people running in the other direction. He gathered as much mana to himself as he could, but his grip felt shaky, like he might not be able to hold it. _**If you can't hold it, then let it go.**_ Justice advised. Anders obeyed without hesitation, releasing a pulse of spirit energy to should have killed ten Fenris'. His eyes widened with horrified shock as the spell passed right through the elf.

Fenris bared his teeth in a feral grin. The lyrium ghost had embraced him. He was nearly invincible like this. He suspected there was only one thing that could hurt him in this state, and it was safely tucked away in Hawke's bedroom. He had wondered more than once if her athame was the key to undoing Danarius' experiment. With the amount of lyrium carved into his skin, he thought it was more likely that it would kill him.

"I told you that you would not win. Why would you even try?" Fenris' voice was soft as he released his hold on Anders long enough to smash his forehead against his, shattering the abominations nose and making stars dance in his eyes. "Do you think you do not deserve to be punished?"

"Not by you." Anders grated. "She should be the one to do it."

"She will never look upon your face again. You are worse than Caress, more despicable than Alrik; you are nothing to her now." He shoved his fist through Anders' chest once more. "Do you know that I used to feel threatened by you? I hated your relationship with Selene, I was afraid she would turn to you when we were apart. Stop struggling so much, you're only making it worse. I even entertained the idea of driving a wedge between you, and now that you've done it for me, I could kill you for it. I _should_ kill you for it, but as much as I hate to agree with you, it should be her that does it." He tightened his grip inside Anders' chest and yanked him forward so that their faces were mere inches apart. "But if you approach her first, if you try to contact her again without first receiving word from her, I will come back here and I will tear out your heart and eat it, no matter what Hawke says. Do I make myself clear, Anders? Do you think you can manage this one simple act of decency?"

"Are we done here?" He snarled in defeat.

Fenris smiled. "Not even close."

Anders screamed as he learned what pain really was.

**oOo**

Fenris was not expecting the left hook that jawed him as he turned the corner to reach his home. _Danarius!_ He could practically feel the magister breathing down his neck. No. That was impossible. If his former master had found him, he would have received much worse than a weak hit to the jaw. Still, his tattoos flared to life and he lashed out at his attacker, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him into the air. Jethann's tear-stained face filled his vision, and he nearly dropped him in surprise. Instead, he gripped him tighter.

"What the hell are you doing here? How did you know where to find me?" Fenris demanded. He tried his beset to live discreetly, to avoid notice, how had this flighty little man-whore discovered his home?

"People talk in bed." Jethann gasped, glaring at Fenris through slitted eyes wrapped in tears of despair and defeat. "For all that you try to remain unnoticed, you are quite the noisy neighbor." Scorn colored his tone at this.

"Why are you here?" He loosened his hold on Jethann's throat a little, but he didn't allow his feet to touch the ground. Weak though the whore may be, Fenris didn't trust him not to attack again. Anders was another story, but Hawke would definitely be angry if he hurt Jethann.

"You know why I'm here." The other elf spat. "Hawke left me today. I assume she's going back to you, soft-hearted little thing that she is. You made her do it! She was happy with me, she _trusted _me!"

Fenris rolled his eyes and dropped him. "For the love of the Maker, does every man she meets fall in love with her? I had no idea she was going to stop seeing you, and even if I did…Jethann, you fuck other women for money. What sort of a future could you have with her? Did she ever give you any reason to think she was interested in you?" He managed to keep himself from sounding jealous. His heart was soaring. _She really stopped seeing him?_

"I would give it up for Hawke. I've made enough to build us a life, but she wouldn't hear of it. She laughed and said the women of Kirkwall would riot. She's right, of course, but still…I would give it up for her."

"But you haven't yet. Go home, Jethann. Get drunk, sleep it off. Tomorrow is a brand new day; you should be thankful for it, because if you think to sucker punch me like that again, you little piece of shit, I'll fucking kill you." Fenris slammed the door in Jethann's face and sighed. It had been a full morning.

He flopped down on his bed and tried to sort through the flood of emotions that had forged through him in the past twenty-four hours. Thoughts of Hawke consumed him. Beating Anders to a pulp had done little to soothe his fury. He shook with rage when he thought of that abomination still breathing. On the other hand, the last thing he'd been expecting was a surprise visit from a heart-broken Jethann. Hawke had been clear that she wasn't ready to cast the other elf off just yet. He'd been a friend to her and she seemed to trust him, so what had changed her mind? He wondered if it had anything to do with Anders. He fervently hoped not. He would hate to think the mage had damaged her faith in men so badly that she would turn her back on friends. Not after they had just gotten her back. She had trusted him last night, held him, she'd been sweet to him this morning, but then she'd sent him off and he began to worry about what she would say when she came to talk to him. Icy fear clawed at his heart. He didn't know if he could stand to lose her yet again. Life without Hawke…He may as well return to Danarius. Freedom was meaningless without her.

He sat up and reached for his pipe. Selene's habit had rubbed off on him, and he needed to think. It's hard to be rational when you're emotional. More than anything he wanted to believe she was coming back, that she truly was returning to him, but it didn't seem possible. He couldn't be that lucky, he didn't deserve it but, Maker, he'd never wanted anything so badly in all his life as he wanted Selene Hawke. He was concerned that he was bordering on obsession, afraid that he was like Anders, too far gone to know the difference between obsession and love. He exhaled heavily and leaned back on the bed, staring at the ceiling. His thoughts rolled in lazy circles between optimism and pessimism. Hawke loved him, she told him she did. Anders had violated her trust so deeply that Fenris couldn't blame her if she turned her back on men altogether. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye and he hit his pipe again. His eyes drifted closed and visions of her danced behind his lids. In her humor, her passion, even in her heartbreak, she always managed to surprise him. He was certain she would be no different in this. The thought was strangely comforting. The future was in Hawke's hands now, and he had to trust her. He had to let go. The thought carried him off to sleep.

Fenris woke with a start to find the darkness. Something soft brushed his face and he lashed out lightning fast. Unbidden, his tattoos flared to life. His fingers grasped a slim wrist and he yanked his intruder down on the bed, rolling the small body beneath him. His eyes adjusted to the light slowly, but he realized it was Hawke who was pinned under him before he did any damage.

"Maker, Hawke," he gasped, relaxing his hold on her, dropping his forehead against hers. ""Don't do that to me. I could have killed you."

"You knew it was me." She said, nuzzling his neck with her nose. "That's why I'm on the bed and not against the wall."

"I seem to remember getting you against the wall once before." He protested, mildly. She had done it again. She surprised him with her bold words, her light tone, the way she seemed to want to get closer to him. He resisted the urge to press his hips against hers, resisted the urge to brush his lips across hers, to run his hands down the impossible length of her legs. He released her instead, sitting up to stare down at her. He didn't let the light go out of his tattoos. Hawke didn't like the dark. She stared right back at him, and for the first time in a long time, her expression was open, curious, yielding, and also somehow frustrated. She reached out to lay her hand on top of his.

"I've been thinking about what you said." Her voice was soft, serious, just shy of being shy.

She sat up so she could better meet his gaze, gauge his reaction. He seemed distant, nervous. Selene was suddenly terrified that she might be too late, that he might have gotten tired of waiting for her. It was irrational, she knew, but the seed of fear had taken root in her heart. She almost faltered, but she thought of how many times he had fought for her, bled for her, picked up the pieces of her broken heart, how many times he had reached out to her and found nothing. She loved Fenris with all her heart, trusted him more than anyone, and she owed him a great debt that she was eager to balance. More than anything, she wanted to be happy.

"I broke it off with Jethann today." She winced at her poor choice of words. She didn't want to imply that there was anything else going on, although the elf had gotten very emotional when she told him.

Fenris decided not to tell her about Jethann's visit earlier today. He smiled and reached out to cup her cheek. The tightness in his chest eased a little when she leaned into his touch. "Are you sure about this, love? I thought you needed more time. I can be patient." That was a lie, but he didn't want her to feel pressured into doing something she would regret later.

"We have been patient long enough. I want to be with you." She whispered, leaning into him once again, breathing in the scent of lyrium and leather and something else she couldn't quite place; something that was uniquely, intoxicatingly Fenris.

He pulled back to search her face once more. Hawke _never_ acted this way. "Is this about Anders? I don't want you to come to me out of fear, love."

"I am not afraid of Anders." She protested , indignantly.

"But? You are not acting like yourself today. Don't misunderstand me." He rushed to explain when he saw the hurt look on her face. "I have missed you, Selene. If there is a future to be had, I would gladly face it at your side. But there is something you are not telling me."

"I had decided to dismiss Jethann before Anders…You were right. Putting it off wasn't going to make it any easier for him, and I think about you all the time. I have not done right by you, Fenris, and I mean to make it up to you, but what Anders did…" She looked away, ashamed. "When I…" She couldn't say it. "I could feel him in my mind and in my heart. I…connected with him the way I did with you, and it was…Dark and empty, and I can't escape it. I can't get it out of my head. It's supposed to be you. I want it to be you. You're warm and light and…savage and complicated. I need to feel that again. I need you to drive his memory away."

"No pressure." He murmured, leaning forward to claim her lips in a soft, sweet kiss. Wipe Anders from her memory? That was what he wanted, but she still seemed so fragile to him. She said she needed this, and the Maker knew he wanted her. The simplest touch from her set his blood to racing; already he was hot and ready for her, but… "We're going to go slowly, love." He whispered against her lips. "You must tell me if you want me to stop."

Hawke nodded and rose to her knees, wrapping her arms around him and pressing her body against his. She could feel him hard against her lower belly and she rolled her hips against his. She sighed and sucked his earlobe into his mouth, drawing on it gently as she tickled him with her tongue.

"Slowly, love." Fenris admonished, unsure if he could hold himself to his promise, but determined to try. Maker, she was going to drive him crazy. Even knowing that she wanted him, he had not expected her to respond so readily, so eagerly. He wrapped his long fingers gently around her wrists and forced her hands behind her back as he embraced her. She did not object to his hold, only smiled and found his lips again.

Selene's head swam and her blood raced. Maker, he tasted good. She would go as slow as he wanted, just so long as he didn't stop what he was doing. Her lips parted under his, inviting him in. She had been starving for him and she'd pushed her emotions so far down that she hadn't even realized it. It felt right to be pressed against him this way, but his sweet restraint was growing frustrating. She wanted to touch him, wanted to feel his warm skin under her fingertips, she wanted to feel his strong hands on her body. She wanted to get closer to him. His tongue finally flicked against hers and a soft whimper escaped her. It wasn't enough. Her mind fled back to the last night they had spent together. She wasn't sure she could take another night of his sweet, tortuous teasing. She began to struggle in his embrace.

Fenris released her immediately and gazed down at her, concern darkening his forest green eyes. "Forgive me, Selene." He whispered, miserably. "I should not have-"

Her hands freed, Selene smiled and pushed him back on the bed. "You are not going to break me, Fenris." She said, kissing the inside of his wrist. "I know that you will not hurt me. I know that you will not force me." She brushed her lips across his fingertips. "I love you, Fenris. It has been hell trying to scratch out an existence without you." She drew his fingertip into her mouth, and wrapping her tongue around its length, she began to suckle gently.

Fenris groaned. He could feel her ministrations down to the tip of his manhood. His hips bucked involuntarily and he reached for her with his free hand, muttering insincere apologies when the buttons of her blouse popped open and her full breasts spilled free. He leaned up and buried his face between them before curling his tongue around one nipple, teasing the sharp little peak between his teeth. She was so soft, so beautiful; she was everything he never knew he wanted, everything he couldn't live without. Still, he resisted the urge to roll her beneath him once again and show her how much he had missed her. If she wanted to lead the dance, he would let her. He was wildly curious to see where she was headed with this.

Selene's head fell back as Fenris massaged her breasts with his mouth and hands. Every touch, every kiss he gifted her with was so perfectly executed, he could bring her to moist arousal so quickly that sometimes she wondered if his body remembered things his mind didn't. She let the thought go before jealousy could sink its claws in. Past was past, especially in their case; no sense in worrying over something you couldn't change. She nipped playfully at the tip of his pointed ear, and his head snapped up so he could cover her mouth with his; more than tasting her, devouring her as he fumbled with the remaining buttons of her blouse.

"You and your damned…clothes." He growled. She laughed huskily, setting fire to his senses.

"Next time I wake you up I'll remember to dispense with the clothing beforehand."

"Mmm…That would be preferable." He murmured against her neck as he pulled her onto his lap. He had told himself that he would let her take the lead, but he was growing impatient. His hands worked into the waistband of her pants, easing them down over her hips. He thought he would come out of his skin when she wiggled her round bottom against him as her pants came off. He trailed his fingers up the smooth length of her leg to grip her hip.

"Aren't you feeling a little overdressed yourself?" She asked, pushing his shirt back over his shoulders. She smiled as he eagerly helped her along, and she sealed her mouth to his once more. He was very sweet for wanting to go slowly, for respecting her, but she wasn't in the mood to take her time. She pushed him back on the bed and shifted so that she was straddling his hips. She made a frustrated noise when she felt the material of his pants rub against the soft skin of her inner thighs.

Fenris chuckled, a warm sound that rumbled deep in his chest as his hands guided her hips to a rolling rhythm that would drive her to slow madness. All he wanted in the world was to drive himself into her, to feel her ride him to completion but, Maker, he loved the way she wanted him. She came to life in his arms. She obeyed the silent command of his hands eagerly, pressing hot kisses down the column of his neck and making his blood pound in his ears. He writhed beneath her when her hands passed over his shoulders, across his chest, and down the flat of his stomach, leaving the cooling sensation of her healing magic behind in his lyrium tattoos.

"God, that's amazing." He groaned. His hands tightened on her hips, guiding her to a more forceful rhythm. "I hate these fucking pants right now."

It was Hawke's turn to laugh. "Maybe I could help you out with that."

Fenris groaned as she slid down his body, trailing hot kisses down the flat of his stomach. Thoughts of going slow vanished completely when he felt her deft fingers unlacing his breeches and his manhood sprang free. Her warm breath feathered along his length and her fingers lightly traced the lyrium that encircled him. Growling impatiently, he bolted upright and hauled Selene up to face him. His hand cupped the back of her head, his fingers threading though her short silky hair as he searched her face for any sign of fear or resistance. Finding none, he took her mouth again, kissing her hard, forcing her mouth open so his tongue could slide in to mate with hers. He pulled her onto his lap again and his free hand traveled down between his legs. His manhood bucked and pulsed against her bum when he found her slick heat.

Selene's head fell back and she moaned as she felt Fenris slide one finger inside her tight channel while his thumb made lazy circles around the sensitive nub of flesh hidden in her folds. She rode his hand gently, whimpering softly in his ear, her fingernails scratched long furrows down his back. Nothing existed outside of this moment. Maker, the man in her arms made the world go round. Hawke's sun rose and set on the sound of his voice. Life was worth living if he was in the room. If he was touching her, making love to her…He made her whole, he breathed the joy of living into her. He made her care about the future. Her breath caught when a ragged growl ripped from his throat and he rolled her beneath him once more.

"Tell me you want me as badly as I want you." He grated. His hot breath kissed her neck and he rocked his hips against hers.

"Pants…" She gasped, arching into him. "…Off…" Her hands spread across his broad shoulders as she gently pushed him off her.

He backed off easily and got to his feet, staring down at her with hot eyes. Her every movement was smooth and sensual as she swung her legs over the edge of the bed and eased his pants down over his narrow hips. His breath caught in his throat when she wrapped her fingers around his hard length, her thumb delicately traced the line of his tattoo as it ran down to the base of his shaft, once again leaving behind the cool, soothing feeling of her magic. He felt a little light-headed as he felt himself lengthening, growing harder than he'd thought possible in her hands. His fingers threaded through her silky auburn hair and he released his breath in a slow hiss when he felt her tongue flick out to caress the head of his manhood, swirling around it before taking him into the hot wet cave of her mouth. Ecstasy Fenris had never known washed over him warm and wild, like the first sunrise that had ever kissed the world. His head fell back and his eyes drifted closed but the light remained. A ragged groan tore from his throat, and his hand closed into an involuntary fist in her hair. _Selene._ Her name lit up his soul like the flames of rebirth. He could do anything when he was with her.

Selene felt a chill run up and down her spine while butterflies fluttered dramatically in the pit of her stomach. Maker, she wanted him so badly. She couldn't believe her fortune that after all this time, he still wanted her. It thrilled her that he responded so readily to her touch, that even in their separation he had remained loyal, resisting the advances of other women, of which there were many. Hawke could feel the lustful eyes watching her lover when they were out at the Hanged Man; she heard the whispers of the nobles in Hightown wondering where they could get their own mysterious, exotic, elven, Tevinter warrior. He made her jealous and proud at the same time, he had visited pleasures upon her that she had never thought to know. How had she managed to live without him all this time? He kept the nightmares at bay. He had washed her clean of a past that haunted her.

She leaned forward to taste him and felt her muscles contract when she heard him exhale a long breath she didn't know he'd been holding. She suppressed a moan when his hand fisted in her hair and she curled her tongue around his length and closed her lips around his shaft. He tasted of warm salt and sweet, spicy lyrium. A tiny whimper vibrated in the back of her throat as she leaned in to take more of him, suckling gently as she worked her way back toward the tip. She shivered when Fenris' hands slid down to massage her neck and shoulders, and she wondered if she would ever get enough of him. She plunged forward again, opening her throat to take him deeper, reaching between his legs to cup his full sac, rolling his testes against each other; then deeper, taking his full length all the may down to the base, sucking hard this time as she withdrew.

Fenris gripped Hawke's shoulders and hauled her to her feet, pressing his mouth hard against hers. "On your knees." He growled, pushing her back on the bed. His manhood jumped and pulsed with need as she peeked up at him through her lashes and grinned. She made a slow show of rolling her onto her belly and rising to her knees as he'd commanded. Impatient need filled him, but he was content to watch her as she displayed her curves to perfection. His mouth went dry and his hands trembled when he reached for her. Positioning himself behind her, he wrapped his strong arms around her and drew her back against his chest. Nudging her knees apart with one of his, he trailed his hand down between her legs to stroke her moist heat. His other hand rested between her breasts, keeping her pressed tight against him as he positioned himself at her tight opening. He hesitated.

"Are you sure?" He panted, not knowing how he would stop. He trailed hot kisses down her neck and along her slim shoulder.

_Was she sure? Was he really asking her that?_ Selene groaned and her head fell back against his shoulder. She growled and bit him hard at the base of his neck, gasping with pleasure when his hips snapped forward, but he did not give her his full length. She tried to lean forward, arching her back to take him deeper, but he held her fast against him. A dark velvet laugh caressed her ear.

"So impatient." He murmured with another short thrust. His tongue snaked out to trace the shell of her ear. He smiled at her frustrated groan. I do not mean to tease you love, but I see no need to rush, hm?" He thrust again, surging forward rather than deeper. He grinned when he felt the hard knot of tissue there and caught her moan, sealing his mouth to hers, sliding his tongue between her lips as he brushed against the knot again. Her inner walls contracted on him almost painfully and she shuddered delicately in his arms.

_Maker, how are you doing that?_ She would have asked, but she didn't want him to stop kissing her. Hot pressure began to coil slowly within her and she reached back to thread her fingers through the silky hair at the nape of his neck. She whimpered into his mouth as he began to move faster. God, it had never been like this before. Mana flared to life in her veins and she tried to release her grip on the back of his neck, but he growled and sank his straight, white teeth into her full lower lip.

"Don't let go." He grated. "I want to feel every part of you, love." He reached up to squeeze one of her breasts, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, sucking gently at the soft flesh there. He gasped when he felt her magic fill him, spreading through his tattoos, thrumming though his veins, surrounding him with her sweet warmth. He bit into her shoulder, pumping into her with short, hard thrusts, hyper-aware of her every gasp, every touch, every pulse of her heartbeat as she gave herself over to him.

Hawke's breath came in short panting gasps as she felt the last shreds of her control slipping away. She had filled herself and Fenris with her magic, held tight in his iron grip as he rode her ever closer to a climax she couldn't contain. The pressure building inside her coiled tighter and tighter past anything she had ever experienced. She didn't know how to let it go. She was afraid of hurting him. His tattoos were glowing brighter than she'd ever seen, bright enough to chase the shadows from the room. She tried to concentrate on creating a flow of spirit and healing magic, but she couldn't grasp it. Little sparks of lightning flicked over their bodies, unbidden.

"…Fenris…" Her quiet gasp was laced with nervous warning. She couldn't hold on much longer.

A ragged groan ripped its way from Fenris' throat as a tingling wave of lightning gently licked its way over his skin, brushing against every part of him. His arms tightened around her convulsively, and he brushed his lips against her ear. "Don't stop." He whispered. "Don't even think about stopping. God, you feel so good." Good wasn't the word. She was beginning to tighten around him and her sweet whimpers of frustrated pleasure were driving him over the edge.

Selene turned her head to kiss him, long and slow and sweet. She stiffened in his arms and another wave of electricity licked over them. That was it. The dam broke. Her moan turned into a scream of pleasure as Fenris released her mouth and his hold on her, pushing her forward so she was down on all fours, slamming his full length into her at last. Pleasure more intense than anything she had ever known crashed over her as she arched into his powerful thrusts. Unable to hold back any longer, she poured her mana into him, not knowing what it was she was doing, not knowing what would happen. A hot storm raged through her, cleansing her of the darkness that had been there before. _Fenris._ Her heart beat his name. Nothing else existed as his essence, his presence surged over her. A low moan escaped her as that window to his soul opened, revealing the light that guided her path. There was a softness inside him, an innocence that was nearly masked by his savage intensity. Oh, he was always tender with her, but she could see the storm that raged within him, and beneath that, somewhere there was something sweet and idealistic; something that remained unscarred after what Danarius and Hadriana had put him through. She could feel all the pain and the worry she had caused him, but it was a small thing compared to the waves of love that washed over her. For the first time she could see how much he really needed her, that he shared her sense of completion when they were together. She cried his name over and over between panting whimpers. Her breath left her in a rush as another convulsion wracked her body. A broken whisper roared in her mind.

_Maker, thank you for bringing her back to me. She is my life. She is everything I ever learned of love. Selene. My little mage. My reason for being._

Fenris braced one arm against the wall above Hawke's head, leaning forward as a vivid climax crashed over them and she gripped him hard with her inner walls. She filled him with her peaceful presence, calming his soul in a way that he had never experienced before knowing her. He could feel the darkness that Anders had left inside her flee before him as he poured himself into her. Her magic flowed into him, through him, gentle, silky flows that felt like a massage of flower petals. Wispy tendrils of lyrium floated out from his tattoos to swirl around them, a sinuous smoke with a mind of its own, caressing them here and there, sending little shocks of pleasure jolting through their bodies.

Fenris growled low in his throat and ran his hand down the arch of Selene's spine to grip her hip. Deep down, he had never truly believed he would find this place again. He would have waited. He would have stayed by her side until his last day, daring to dream of a time when she would make him whole again, a time when she would reach out to calm the beast within him. And now she was here, writhing in his arms, proving to him beyond doubt that there was something good and pure in this world. Something worth fighting for. He strained to hear the soft sweet whispers that echoed in his ears.

_I was dead before I met you, my warrior, my savior. My lyrium wolf. You woke me up; you brought me out of the darkness. …Fenris…You are everything that is good in me. Wherever you go, I will follow. I would bind myself to you._

The lovers cried out as one, stiffening as their bodies locked together in a wild release that seemed to go on and on. Exhilaration fanned the flames of their passion. They had never been this close before. Always they had witnessed glimpses into the deepest parts of each other, always they had shared the sense of being healed, of being filled with new life, but they had never connected so strongly that they could actually _hear_ the innermost whispers of their hearts calling out to each other. In that moment, they knew with excruciating relief that there could be no going back, no half measures. Their lives were inextricably linked; neither of them could bare the thought of being parted from the other a moment longer.

When the storm finally passed, they collapsed on the bed, and Fenris gently turned her over to reset his head on the soft pillow of her breasts, purring as he listened to her heart hammering wildly in her chest as she worked to catch her breath. She smiled down at him with starry eyes, absently running her fingers through his hair.

"Where did you learn _that_?" She breathed a satisfied sigh.

"…I read…" His tone carried hints of defensive humor.

Hawke was enchanted by the faint blush that crept into Fenris' cheeks. A bubble of laughter escaped her before she could stop it. "Isabella…" She mused. "Where does she find these things? She has gifted me with a veritable library of hints and tricks, accompanied by detailed pictures, of course." She laughed again.

Fenris smiled and leaned up to nip playfully at her collarbone. "It was Varric, actually." He admitted, bashfully. "It would seem he and Isabella are in cahoots to make us fantastic lovers."

Hawke leaned down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, the bridge of his nose, and finally his lips, lingering there for the briefest of moments before pulling back to stare into his deep green eyes, committing every detail to memory, her face suddenly serious.

"I have a job coming up." She said. "And I think I need your help. The man who hired me - he's not telling me the whole truth. I don't want to walk into a trap, but neither do I want a murderer terrorizing the Dalish."

It was Fenris' turn to laugh. "You have the sweetest pillow talk, love." He teased her, but his heart swelled with joy and relief that he could fight beside her one more. He folded his arms around her in a fierce hug and rolled to his side, resting his chin on the top of her head. He heaved a sigh of contentment. Tomorrow would be the greatest day Fenris would ever know. The sun would shine brighter, the air would feel cleaner, the world would finally spin on its proper axis because she was with him.

**oOo**

****So I know I changed the sequence of events a little, but fear not. It will still be awesome.**


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